Redhawk Caldera snickerdoodle

Though always rotund and mobile, the yet-unnamed sausage was feeling particularly rotund and mobile today, whenever that was. His itty bitty paws and his itty bitty legs were growing and strengthening day by day, and thus his ability to jet around the den like tomorrow wasn't a thing expanded as well. It became his favorite pasttime, bumbling along until he bumped into something and, when he did, do a great imitation of a roomba and just change direction.

She couldn't yet see or hear, but she could certainly feel. She was awake -- which was a feat in itself, since the black and white puppy seemed to have quite an affinity for sleep -- and suckling busily on the toes on her right front paw, exploring the soft appendages and the tiny nubs that served as her claws. It was quite interesting business, and she was affronted when she was interrupted by a bump to her side.

She gave a yip of protest and swiped out at the Roomba pup, but her brother was already rolling away in the opposite direction. Her annoyance subsided quickly and was replaced by curiosity, and with a busily wriggling nose, she Roomba'ed after him, short legs propelling her slowly in an ungracious arc across the den floor.

She couldn't linger over Stoat's death any more than Fox's. There were still five pups to feed, clean and protect. It was a 'round-the-clock job. Although still exhausted by everything, Raven found it mildly entertaining as they began to really scoot around the den. They were too small, slow and uncoordinated to get very far but it was kind of fun watching them try. That's what she was doing now; even as she fought to keep her yellow eyes open, two of the kiddos snailed around the den floor.

When he wasn't sleeping, Fidget was moving. That was a lie. Even when he was sleeping, he was moving. It was, after all, how he had acquired the nickname from his godmother. Something bumped into him, stirring the twitching Phox into some semblance of consciousness. His thoughts were few and far between, considering his pea-brain wasn't exactly developed just yet. Head wobbling precariously on his neck (or lack thereof, considering how pudgy he was), Fidget attempted to investigate what (or whom) had awoken him with what little sense of smell he had.

Moving this along. :)

Soon, more of the pups were waking. Raven watched, fascinated as always by how rapidly they were developing. They were only a few days old, yet they had gone from twitchy, lumpy potatoes to twitchier, lumpier potatoes. They could move surprisingly well, considering their legs didn't work yet and they couldn't see or hear. The Gamma wondered what that must be like. She couldn't remember being this age, of course, and could barely fathom bumbling around in a dark, quiet world.

One day in the near future, the puppies would not only get their eyes and ears but their sea legs as well. Raven couldn't imagine what it would be like shepherding them then. She thought she was exhausted now? Better enjoy this while you can, a voice murmured in the back of her head.

Finding that she quite enjoyed her new occupation as a Roomba, Orca scooted along until she bumped into Oriole's backside. When that happened, she turned away and started scooting in a different direction, a gurgly giggle escaping her. This time, she happened to beeline towards Fidget; at negative twenty miles an hour, she plowed straight into him. Rather than change course again, she instead delivered an exploratory lick to her brother's busily wriggling nose.

A soft, warm, wet tongue on his nose caused Phox to bat weakly at whoever had done the licking. His attempt was, of course, pitiful. Being only two days old meant he barely had control over any aspect of his life, including his own movements. Still, the sensation hadn't been unpleasant, and the batting at Orca was more of a stimuli reaction than anything.

The little two-toned girl snailed along until she bumped into one of the two lookalikes (the boy). She quickly changed course, playing bumper cars with another of her brothers. Raven wanted to watch how the scene further unfolded, yet Oriole hadn't taken kindly to his sister's bump. What started out as little whimpers quickly escalated into full-blown wailing.

Quickly, the she-wolf reached out and grasped his tiny bean of a body in her mouth, her teeth gentle as she hoisted him into the air and then pushed him next to her flank. She curled slightly, her tongue passing over his back even as she urged him toward a nipple. Whether or not he was hungry, nursing tended to soothe the babies. This much she had already learned in these precious few days.

Once he latched on and settled down to feed between his other brother and sisters, Raven returned her attention to the would-be Orca and Phox, mouth curling into a smile as she watched them come together in a sort of kiss, which didn't seem to be to his tastes judging by how he flailed.

Although Phox provided a reaction to Orca's bump, fatigue was already catching up to her. At this age, her attention span was short and her ability to stay awake was even shorter. Even as he flung his forepaws gently at her, she felt a general heaviness around her head that caused it to loll to the side as she yawned. With that statement made, the little she-pup toppled onto her side and fell asleep.

Like Orca, Phox's resistance to sleep was short-lived. In a matter of minutes, he was snoring softly next to his sister and dreaming cute puppy dreams. His legs, ears, and tail twitched (as they always did) while Raven watched over the precious cargo.