Sleeping Dragon there should be stars for great wars like ours

hi, dad. plz don't strangle me while i cry v loudly @ u

With each day, he grew. It did not yet matter how fast his rate was, for he'd not the capacity to bother with things such as that. Instead, he'd just continued to suckle away and, when necessary, fend off his sisters. Plus he had to find a way to fit sleep into his busy schedule, too. It was a lot of work for someone so small! Yet, his complaints were rarer than most others his age, his attention often tied to what he had to do in each moment. Whether it be to fill his stomach or sleep, or possibly even try to drag himself around, his actions had a tendency to distract him from voicing whatever complaints that he might have at any given time. Over the past few days, though, something had been off. He had no way of knowing what was happening, the ebbing irritation in his abdominal region usually able to be quelled by either a meal or relief. So when he was woken up by a sharp jolt of pain, he'd done both, but to no avail. His usual methods had failed him, and so he'd cried.

On any normal day, Hvitserk was perhaps the quietest of the bunch, but not on that night. No, the aches in his stomach did not make for a very happy puppy at all, resulting in him whining and crying. The boy's body had reacted on its own, feet tucking in with his back arched slightly, though this was something he had not even realized had happened. From there, he wailed; a sound so high in pitch that it'd put a banshee to shame. He did not care about those that he was surely bothering with his noise, more so because he didn't realize what he was doing than anything else. All that he wanted was for his stomach to right itself, and whimpering about it seemed like a decent solution.