I gaze down at the small infant in my curled frame, horns lightly curled, much like my own large ram horns. The grub refuses to sit still, burgundy body continuosly wriggling and inching this way and that as they try to escape my white embrace. I try to shoosh it with a soft blare, but when its eyes, wide and bright, look up at mine, I lower my head.
She was never like this.
My dearest troll, Aradia, had always lain still when I'd urged her to sleep. She did as told, smiling and happy as ever. This one had been nothing but a rebellious little brat since I'd brought him home from the Brooding Caverns.
I sigh as he finally manages to crawl free of me; little black legs working quickly as he waddles off again.
My wings are wrinkled, my nose peircing pulled and my poor legs nearly buckling beneath the weight of the obese wriggler on my back. He's been clinging to it non-stop, which, while it is familiar -causing small spurts of nostalgia from my last grub- is also painfully annoying.