Explore "The Yearling" by Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The 'coon sucked greedily at his sugar-teat. He lay on his back, cupped in Jody's arm, and clutched the sugar-filled cloth with his fore feet. He closed his eyes blissfully. His small paunch was already round with milk and shortly he pushed the sugar-teat away and scrambled to be free. Jody lifted him to his shoulder. The 'coon parted his hair and felt along his neck and ears with his small, restless hands.
"His hands is never still," Fodder-wing said.