Blackfeather Woods I've taken shits better than the lot of you

To say that the span of time Witchhazel had technically been alive was, well, life, was a major understatement. Hell, there wasn't-still isn't- any consciousness to really experience things, but there was one thing that the little girl knew: Mom. It wasn't so much a word as an instinct, the comfort of being where she was. Everything was perfect for a very long time, seeing as she was always warm, wrapped (possibly too literally) in her mothers love, and never even knew what hunger or sadness-or any emotions- were. Nothing showed signs of change, little as she felt and knew of her dark home, other than the undeniable fact that it was getting very, very tight, cramped. It happened so slowly, though, that the being- even if she had the ability to actually notice anything at all-didn't care.
One day, though, something seemed VERY different, and not in a good way. She kept being moved, shifted, bothered, and it was rising in her something else new: irritation. She barely even realized that though she was still constricted to herself, it was becoming less and less cramped. However, she was being moved even more now, but there was no time to even react before she was REALLY moving, down and out into.... More nothing? The youngest Quinzel child was silent as Althaia brought her into the world, with naught but a flurry of breathing that cleared her lungs of birthing fluid.
It seemed as though her surroundings hadn't changed, but that just couldn't be right. The tiny girl was no longer a part of her mother, her protector and provider, and a NEED overcame her with a ferocity Witch couldn't ever understand. It pulled her, literally, in one direction, towards the warmth and familiarity of her mother. The girl found that she wasn't happy about what was happening here, not at all: It was COLD, and bright, and very, very LOUD.... Despite the glen being mostly quiet. Her siblings fussed, moved, made unbearable noises, but the last born girl only waited patiently for... Well, something. It was swift, the attention she got, being cleaned completely and gently before being shoved off again. For the first time, a cry readied in the chest of the newborn, but her mother was quick enough to place her daughter by a teat and it was quelled. Once again, instinct took over, and Witch suckled till full in the curve of her mothers stomach.