nowhere close to a deadly sin
Will's morning run was interrupted about ten minutes in by a pathetic little squeak coming from some nearby bushes. It wasn't like Will was the kind of guy who could ignore such a sad little sound, so he turned back and nosed around a bit to find the source. It didn't take long. Under some tangled vines at the base of a tree he found a sloth. Two sloths, to be exact; one adult sloth that was clearly recently dead, and a tiny baby sloth very much alive and still clinging to her and making pitiful little squeaking sounds. He'd never seen a sloth in his life outside of a book or a picture on the internet, but he didn't need to know much to be able to tell that the little guy was hungry. And he was pretty sure sloths didn't live in packs or anything, so it wasn't like another sloth would come along and take care of it. Poor guy.
"C'mere, little fellow," Will said, and knelt down to gently pry the little guy away from his mom. For a tiny little dude, maybe even just a few days old, he had a pretty strong grip, and it took Will a minute to get him loose. It squeaked and flopped a little and then wrapped itself around Will's hand, yawning and smacking it's mouth and licking and sucking at Will's fingers like he was looking for something to eat. "Sorry, nothing for you there," Will said. Did sloths bite? He didn't know what the hell they even ate. Leaves, he guessed, but this little guy was so tiny he probably just needed milk. Magnus would probably know. He'd take the little thing by her vet office later but the compound was closer and he could round up some towels or something to wrap him in.
So the compound it was, and a little while later he had the sloth--which he'd randomly started calling Roy, because it cracked him up-- wrapped in an old towel and tucked into the crook of his arm. There was some goat's milk in the kitchen fridge; maybe he could water down a little and warm it up for him to tide him over till Magnus could figure out the best thing for him.
"C'mere, little fellow," Will said, and knelt down to gently pry the little guy away from his mom. For a tiny little dude, maybe even just a few days old, he had a pretty strong grip, and it took Will a minute to get him loose. It squeaked and flopped a little and then wrapped itself around Will's hand, yawning and smacking it's mouth and licking and sucking at Will's fingers like he was looking for something to eat. "Sorry, nothing for you there," Will said. Did sloths bite? He didn't know what the hell they even ate. Leaves, he guessed, but this little guy was so tiny he probably just needed milk. Magnus would probably know. He'd take the little thing by her vet office later but the compound was closer and he could round up some towels or something to wrap him in.
So the compound it was, and a little while later he had the sloth--which he'd randomly started calling Roy, because it cracked him up-- wrapped in an old towel and tucked into the crook of his arm. There was some goat's milk in the kitchen fridge; maybe he could water down a little and warm it up for him to tide him over till Magnus could figure out the best thing for him.