Blackfeather Woods It's not nice to stare, really

The child was staring.

Night had long ago thrown it's shawl of shadow over the land, and night-creatures lingered outside, away from the protectiveness of the Glenn but close enough to instill fear in a normal child by ways of their subtle sounds. However, Abraxas, youngest of his siblings, was anything but a normal child. Like some possessed, unearthly creature, he gazed with unblemished blue eyes into the face of his mother, but inches away from her great face, still in slumber. 

He suddenly found great interest in the massive face, having woken but minutes ago and seeing it now by the moon's glow that seeped into the den. Night was hardly adequate lighting to stare into one's face, but with his annoying siblings finally still, he had taken the chance to thoroughly inspect big-blob, and found her giant face very interesting.