Whitebark Stream vulnerability: an essay

@Grezig, assuming someone helped him

something, someone— his eyes slowly opened, still joined at the edges by dried mucus deposits. there was enough light seeping into the den's entrance for alsek to make out several vague figures, none of which were bright enough to catch his interest.

alsek rose onto shaky paws and took two steps, but fumbled pitifully to the side. his body was still weak, still malnourished; the healing process was coming to a close, making his mother's milk easier to ingest. he crawled to grezig's side and took one tender teat into his mouth.

Grezig watched her son as he began to suckle. She had been relieved when the… surgery… seemed to have actually helped him. When he was finally able to suckle at her teat without screaming. He was still too small—not enough nutrients in him—but that would soon change. She nuzzled her son gently with her nose, making sure not to disrupt his mealtime too much. As for Pele, the girl was small as ever, yet not skinny like her brother. Just small. A runt. Grezig still worried for her daughter, the one who made hardly any noise and didn’t even react much when her big brother bothered her. They made a strange pair, but both were still alive and for that, Grezig was happy.