Tiny Misskoi lay curled up on a soft cloth, her frail body trembling slightly. Her fur looked dull and thin, and her tiny ribs peeked through her delicate skin. She was so small, so weak—it was clear that she wasn’t in good health.
Her breathing was shallow, and her little eyes blinked slowly, filled with exhaustion. She didn’t have the strength to move much, but she tried to lift her tiny hands, reaching out for comfort.
Mom gently touched her soft forehead, feeling the warmth of her body. It was too warm. A fever.
“Oh, sweetheart, you’re not feeling well…” Mom whispered, her heart aching for the fragile baby.
Misskoi whimpered softly, her tiny mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to cry but didn’t have the strength. She tried to suckle on her tiny fingers, looking for comfort, but she was too weak even to do that.
Mom immediately wrapped her in a soft blanket, holding her close. “You need milk, my love,” she said gently, preparing a warm bottle.
When the bottle touched Misskoi’s lips, she slowly started to drink, but her sips were weak and slow. It broke Mom’s heart to see her like this—so fragile, so helpless.
Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes. “Don’t give up, baby. Mommy’s here. I’ll take care of you.”
Misskoi blinked up at Mom, her tiny fingers gripping onto her hand for warmth. She was struggling, but she was still fighting to stay strong.
