Pressed against the soft warm of safety and full of milk, Selkie rolled over onto his pudgy side and went back to gnawing gummily on the blanket. It was still soaked with drool and peppered with flyaway threads where growing milk teeth had caught and pulled. The long trek was remembered in blurred fragments but what he did remember painted it firmly as bad, and he was determined to express this by chewing with puppyish gusto. But it was not supposed to make scratching noise.
Selkie chewed again, confused, and let go clumsily to wriggle back onto his belly. The scratching kept happening, and he squinted out at the dark room. A blurry unfamiliar shadow-shape wriggled at the narrow opening he was stopped from going past, yipping in a voice he didn't know, and fresh curiosity compelled him to get to his paws and try a few shaky steps in its direction.
