dawn of a new generation ;; birth

There was a variable amount of shame that the litter would surely feel, knowing that their father had left and that their mother would never truly love them. But even before Mordred made a squeak, his little body was wracked with gentle noises, that of coughs barely audible. A runty boy, born out of a union of undead beasts, sickly the second he was out of the womb. His mind could not comprehend it yet, but his body acted on natural impulse and tried to squirm toward Livingdead's belly to suckle.

A pitiful child making a pitiful effort. Frail body doing it's best to survive.