Swiftcurrent Creek If you're broken, I will mend you.

She did not know why she suddenly felt so uneasy, but Durnehviir did not wish to be near her siblings. When she was nestled with them, there was warmth and support. Since before even opening her eyes, she'd bonded with her three very smelly, silly brothers. Although she was too young to understand relationships, friendship and rivalry, she knew somehow that she was supposed to feel emotionally attached to the creatures that had shared a womb with her. They annoyed her on a daily basis, but it was on rare occasions that she was apart from them.

That evening, heat was what roused Durnehviir from her sleep. Groggy, she blinked her stormy blue eyes open and found her vision to be blurry as she lifted her head and looked down at her litter-mates. With a little paw she reached up to wipe her eyes and cheeks, then blinked again, but found that the sight before her was no less bleary. Too tired to really care, the tiny Frostfur groaned and flopped over into a more comfortable place, unfurling herself from Julius, and seeking space by herself.

Durnehviir dozed, but was woken again when Relonikiv scooted closer to her. She woke to find him sobering on her shoulder, and dragged herself even further away. Thankfully, nobody followed. She moved along the length of her mother's foreleg and wound up at her left paw, where she curled up with the intention of finding sleep once more.

However, slumber did not sweep her away. Instead, nausea gripped her tiny stomach and, uncomfortable, she mewled inwardly. She felt as though her skin was on fire, so intense was the heat that radiated from her, and as she sensed her mother rouse nearby and move to inspect her, she cried out the moment she was touched.

Soon the adult was gone, and Durnehviir continued to tremble as she struggled to maintain her rising body temperature.