Redtail Rise the happiest day

Still a slave to her instincts, young Masquerade fell into a cycle of feeding and sleeping, with brief bouts of movement in between. Mother’s milk grew bone and flesh during every rest and slowly, the whelp gained enough strength to advance beyond mere squirming.

Driven as ever by the automic quest for sustenance, Masque braced her small legs against the dusty den floor and pushed herself forward. She discovered her sister’s snout latched onto one of Avicus’s teats. There were many others, though an innate sense of competition compelled Masque to insert her tiny snout in between Redd and the nub of flesh, shoving her sibling aside to claim it.

She suckled voraciously. Masque might have drunk herself into a stupor if not for the new scents that wafted into the den moments later. She unlatched, whimpering almost querulously, head wobbling as she made an attempt to raise it.