Moonspear woah its lit in here

Backdated to the first week of his birth. Daytime. Mom and siblings are more than welcome to join!

Atlas spends most of his time imagining, as he has done since his permanence first permitted it. He mostly thinks about how milk tastes and how he can't get enough of it. How said milk-giver regularly cleans not only himself but his siblings as well. How stinky his siblings can get. Atlas lets them know, too; sometimes with a distressed yelp or slobbery nibbles.

Aside from eating and doling out punishment, there's not much else he can do. Moving around consists of crawling and that grows tiring quickly. At least he was well acquainted with the ground by now. It's hard in some places but his inquisitive nose has sought out some soft spots. He likes sticking his wet nose in the dirt and huffing it. It is a new smell and, therefore, interesting.

It isn't long before he grows cold in his most perilous adventure to date. He whines plaintively, oblivious to what may be a resting mother. Not for long if he can help it.