Ouroboros Spine and you bet your life it rains

for anyone that’s welcome near the den

still was the charcoal boy. one would think him deceased had they not approached. but he did stir, occasionally. only to eat or softly cry. enough for his @Lótë not to fret.
oh his sweet mother. he had not to chance to gaze upon her as she did him. not until the morning of the thirteenth day.
lómion awoke in a sea of mother’s fur. it was gentle on both his touch and eye. an astonished noise came from the boy — louder than any noise he’d ever made — before kneading at her belly.