Blackfeather Woods please don't let them look through the curtain

Once again, he arose to find his mother missing from her usual warm spot beside him. This, he clearly defined in his head, was something he did not like. Lifting himself from within the pile of lumpy beings, he sought out the warmth; following what he saw out the den. Indeed, his mother was outside. It was cold. Her looming figure did not frighten him but give him the assurance he needed to become easy again. His mouth sought about any piece of his mother he could grasp as if to hold her tight and never let go. That happened to be what he would learn to be a tail. Her voice was soothing, causing him to venture closer to the sound as he could get. But when he made his way through her legs and closer to the source of the sound, he made an odd discovery. 

The pale colors made him wince, uneasy, as he struggle to comprehend what this was. He had hardly paid attention to the black man just a day before and he had simply assumed the dark man was his mother. His mother was dark, therefore anything dark was his mother. Yet, his father, was pale. Was this his father? It had to be. Yet, he could not understand the feeling of uneasiness that swirled in his stomach and he gave a pitiful whine. "maaaaaaaa," his face burrowed in his mother's legs, wishing the weird feeling go away so he could eat. And play. He really wanted to play.