Minea screamed with fierce demand, tiny mouth wide, eyes flashing with stubborn hunger and impatience.
Her cry was not weak or fearful but loud with commanding newborn will today alone.
She twisted in her blanket, fists pumping air as if ordering the world to obey.
Mom hurried close with warm milk, startled by the strength in such small lungs today.
Minea screamed even harder, forcing her face forward, demanding the bottle by pure sound alone.
The cry cut sharply through the room like a siren of newborn authority calling all.
Mom steadied her hands, refusing to rush though the noise shook her heart deeply today.
The bottle touched Minea’s lips and she attacked it with desperate hunger at once fiercely.
Milk spilled down her chin as she drank like she had been starved forever today.
The screaming vanished instantly, replaced by loud urgent swallowing and tiny satisfied grunts of relief.
Her rigid body softened, legs relaxing, anger melting into nothing but survival again at last.
Moments earlier she had ruled the room with rage born from empty hunger alone today.
Now silence spread gently as milk filled the ache inside her small belly at last.
Her eyes fluttered shut halfway, still drinking, still clutching the bottle tightly with fading fury.
Mom watched closely, half relieved, half shaken by the storm just passed through them both.
Minea slowed at last, lips working softly as hunger surrendered completely for now at last.
The fierce little tyrant turned suddenly into a fragile creature needing warmth and comfort again.
Mom lifted her carefully, wiping the milk and kissing the angry little forehead with love.
Minea did not protest now, only drank and breathed and clung in peace at last.
The battle ended not with scolding but with milk and patient loving surrender for both.
