“Mama!”
He is on her sticky-fingered, weaving into the finest wisps at her nape and yanking as he burrows, breathes deep, knees her in the bladder. She is frozen – unable to react, to hold him close, to run her hand over the downy soft and feel the slight depression on his skull, because it isn’t there.
He jerks up like a rabbit perked on her scent, but only to ...