His name is Regulus Eda Grigori Azali. His mother is no longer moving. He could not move. He never learned how. He never left his mother's cradle.

Hunger…

Hunger forced him to move. His bony limbs lifted him up. Towards his mother's breast. It was a struggle. A worthless one.

His mother's were barren. No longer able to provide him sustenance.

He crawled.

And fell.

And he raised up and crawled again.

And he fell again.

His body is too weak to crawl. But he knew he needed to leave his mother. He needs to fill his belly. So he drags it through the ground. But he can't go far. His belly was attached to a cord. He was bound to his mother.

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Hunger…

Unable to drink his mother's milk. It was already dried up.

Unable to look for food. He was bound to his mother.

Unable to even chew the muddy grass. Too weak to unroot it, hadn't grew any teeth yet.

He was doomed to die. Saved from his fate by small critters that came.

They scurried toward his mother. They crawled from inside his mother. They were feasting on his mother.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali grasped them.

They were smaller than his tiny hands. Weaker than his barebone body.

They were small enough for him to swallow. Many enough to fill his belly.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali grasped them.

He feasted on them. He swallowed them. He filled his belly with them

Some of them started to skitter away from his mouth, struggling to survive.

So he crushed them with his hand. And he feasted on their remains.

"Squawk"

Cawed the black things, hovering in the sky.

Some of them landed on his mother. Tearing her apart.

First her eyeballs. Then her lips. Then her eyes. Then everything else.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali approached the black things, he tried to grasp them. They flew away.

Away from his grasp.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali was left with his torned mother. And from those torn, scraps of meat scattered. Scraps… small enough for him to swallow.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali grasped them.

He feasted on them. He feasted on his mother.

And it's not enough. There's not enough scraps on the ground.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali climbed his mother. He puts his hands on her lips.

He grasped them.

And he tore her.

And whatever scraps his hands could tear, he feasted on them.

The black things landed on her mother. They helped him tear his mother. They scattered scraps of mother. They fed him.

His mother sustained him once again.

The critters kept coming.

The crows kept pecking.

Regulus Eda Grigori Azali kept grasping...

He kept feasting...

And he survived.