I woke up soon after, or at least, I thought it was soon after. The sun was not much higher in the sky than before, and I expected my mother to still be around nearby. I slowly tried to get up, my weak legs quivering under my weight. I was very thin, almost skin-and-bone, as in, you could see every bone in my body through my skin and fur. I could scacely talk, I only knew pleas of mercy, and the cruel words my mother had always said to me. I did not know even, "hello", or "good-bye". I understood little, and I felt as if I were a miserable flea, or at least, the most pathetic creature in existance. My mother had always enjoyed making me feel so.

I stumbled hopelessly and forelorn away from the forest that had caused me so much pain, and I was hoping I could get far enough away that my mother would be unable to find me. Yet I was unsuccessfull. A small whimper escaped my throat as I collapsed in a puddle of mud, slowly getting back up, only to fall again in not even three inches from where I fell first. I then gave up and let the mud sting my wounds... and I didn't bother trying to escape. I never understood why my mother enjoyed beating me so, I was varely a few weeks old, not ready or strong enough to survive anything without a caring mother.

After a few minutes I felt a hand scoop me up, and I automatically curled into a small ball and whined, trying to appear as small as possible. I heard a soothing, almost familiar voice - that of my older brother. He tried to calm me down, and did so. I trusted him more than anything else in the world, even if this was the first time I ever encountered him. He attempted to get me to go to sleep, yet I was in too much pain, the muck stinging terribly...