The tiny longtail baby trembled with impatience, his little body stiff with hunger and temper. His belly had been empty for too long, and now every second without milk felt unbearable. He kicked his legs, waved his thin arms, and let out sharp, demanding cries that filled the room. His tiny face scrunched with anger and need, his voice rough from crying so hard.
The caregiver hurried to warm the milk, but to him, it still felt too slow. He shouted louder, his cries breaking into desperate, high-pitched squeaks. His tail flicked wildly behind him, showing just how upset he was. Hunger had turned his fear into fire.
The moment the bottle finally touched his lips, everything changed.
His mouth latched on instantly. The angry cries vanished in one breath. His little hands clutched the bottle tightly, as if afraid it might disappear again. He drank fast and greedily, swallowing in quick, shaky gulps. Milk dribbled from the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was that the hunger was finally leaving his body.
Slowly, his tense muscles relaxed. The tight anger in his face melted into calm concentration. His breathing steadied between swallows. Each drop of milk softened the storm inside his tiny body.
Halfway through the bottle, he paused, blinking slowly, surprised by how warm and full he was beginning to feel. Then he drank again, slower this time, no longer frantic. His tail stopped flicking. His little feet loosened. His tiny fingers no longer shook.
When the bottle emptied, he released it with a soft, tired sigh. The temper was gone. The hunger was gone. All that remained was a sleepy, fragile baby curling into warmth.
Mom held him close as his eyes finally closed.
He had screamed from hunger.
Now he slept in peace.
