Dragoncrest Cliffs yo wè figi ou

Scrubbing his face into his sister's ribs did the trick. But there was no second chance for Loko to have a moment of uninterrupted sight. Sobo came, and Coraline next. In a literal blink the puppy puddle had recombined around him with a whole lot of smothering fuss.

Loko groaned. Squirming, shoving, wriggling, crawling, mouthing—eventually, he squeezed himself out and moseyed off to the side, finally having his moment to look around. His head bobbed and weaved as he slowly combed his blurry eyes over the den walls, and the floor, and his toes, and the light.

But all he thought about—in some abstract way—was the gurgle in his stomach, and his desire to get milk-drunk once again.