Not to mention accepting them, even looking at them for an extra second seemed like a waste of attention.
In their eyes, these few orphaned little beasts.
Were just a burden, doomed to starve to death in the wilderness, worse than stray dogs.
In the end, it was Claire Joyce who couldn't stand it anymore.
She gritted her teeth and took the cubs from the village chief's arms, turning to head back to her shabby wooden hut.
She wasn't unaware of the trouble.
But she couldn't bear those few pairs of wet eyes.
Fortunately, they only eat grass and aren't used to drinking milk.
They're not picky either; tender leaves, moss, and dried dandelion roots can fill their stomachs.
Raising them was indeed easy, and they didn't cause any noise or fuss.
At night, they curled up in her arms, purring softly as they slept soundly.
Though it was worry-free, there was always a hint of dependence that tugged at the heart in that quietness.
