Redtail Rise bon-bon

Instincts—and perhaps a helpful nudge from the midwife—eventually guided her toward sustenance. She latched with vigor, tiny paws reaching forward to knead at her dam’s belly as her lips closed around the bud of flesh and gave it a tug. She hardly noticed her siblings’ movements on either side of her as she suckled, her world narrowed down to the warm milk flowing into her mouth, down her throat and into her belly.

It didn’t take long to achieve satiation. Instinctually, the whelp released her grasp on her mother’s teat. She then pressed her face into the warm, soft skin beside it, releasing a single satisfied grunt as she burrowed. Her tiny body curled into a mimicry of the fetal position despite the extra legroom now afforded her and she lapsed into a familiar state of consciousness: sleep.