Hideaway Strath all of us speak with different tongues

forward dated to: may 13th when the lotturos hit their 6th week mark. :-)

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To soothe the ache of his incoming teeth as they break through the sensitive flesh of his gums he teethes on a bone of some unfortunate creature that Arturo has split apart, collecting the bigger bones that do not pose a choking hazard and brought to them. Roarke had claimed the biggest one he saw, pouncing upon it and instantly taking what he could reach of it into his mouth, chewing upon it. His sharp baby teeth find purchase upon the bone and he carries it with him now, dropping it once at the mouth of the king sequoia, dripping with slobber as his mouth waters at the promise of sweet marrow he has discovered by suckling at the bone. It is not as good as Lotte’s sweet mother milk but it provides a nice substitute as they are weaned. Small, salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls to collect the strings of saliva at having carried the bone before he picks it back up and chomps upon it, stepping out into the warmth of the morning, a soft shiver slithering down his spine as the golden rays of the sun caress his pale pelage. The winter’s bane does not venture far — just outside the den knowing that to venture is to earn a reprimand from his mother or father. The tall coywolf follows him, lingering in a sphinx-like position avoiding the sun’s warming rays by hanging in the shade to avoid overheating. Roarke finds a sunny patch of grass and drops his bone before he plops down in an attempt to mimic the older gangster with a lopsided grin that hints at certain mischief. See?, his look says, I can do it too! He lets out a low giggle as he traps the bone beneath his paws and continues his plight of worrying it.

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At six weeks old, the difference between Eirlys and her healthier siblings is indiscernible. She is plump and round, covered in lustrous, downy fur, with oversized ears and a sturdy bone structure that suggests she may more closely resemble her broad-featured mother than her svelte, sharply-etched father. It is most evident in her face, which already appears slightly more rounded than dark-furred Mallaidh’s. Her misty blue eyes are bright and curious as she bounds into the clearing, utterly devoid of any trace of her neonatal struggles. Roarke has something, and she wants it. It doesn’t matter what “it” is — he has it, and she doesn’t.

She voices her complaint in a series of brisk, staccato barks, her hips seeming to have a life of their own as she weaves an unsteady circle around her twin. They swivel and sidestep, seemingly tugging her forequarters along with them, and abruptly switch direction and wriggle back the other way. All the while, she issues her most threatening growl — a soft, kittenish ticking that stutters and stops when she has to pause for breath or when her clumsy steps cause a hiccup in the sound. A few horizontal hops cause her to collapse in a tumble, but she’s immediately up and at it again, tail switching as she pipes a tinny howl.

She resumes circling her twin in a weird backward-sideward scuttle, feinting now and again with little lunges and bounds, then bumps into her father tail-first. Surprise has her whipping around with a defiant bark — is it @Mallaidh or @Ceallach come to wrestle and play? — but the sight of Arturo delights her utterly. A happy shiver runs from the tip of her nose all the way down to the fluff of her tail, which takes up a wagging so intense she falls over onto her side. Then, overcome with excitement, she attempts to fasten her aching teeth into his forearm. She loves him — but she also kind of wants to bite him.

She does not notice Roarke leaving the den but when the second pale sibling disappears, there’s a sudden change in colors. She looks to her brother left remaining with her as she turns and catches the little fluffy tail of her sister waving back and forth enticingly. She doesn’t get Ceallach a second chance as she bounds away and out of the den.
 
When the sun hits her eyes, she flinches and squints, taking a moment to adjust to the intrusion. She sees he shapes ahead of her that outline more than just Eirlys, but eventually she notes the large form of her father and off to the side, Roarke. Her eyes widen the moment she notes what is in his position and she bounces forward with a shrill bark to announce her presence to her family.

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Roarke is content to worry his bone, sharpening his needle sharp baby teeth whilst working to strengthen his jaw. These things are unknown to winter’s bane as he crunches and suckles the sweet marrow from it’s core, peering up at his father every now and then to assure himself that the sinister Ceannasach has not gone anywhere. He retains much better now than he has before and has begun to understand that just because Arturo is no longer in his sight does not mean that he is not in Arturo’s. His head lifts and the bone falls from betwixt his lips as Eirlys shoots from the den. Roarke’s tail slaps against the hard earth like the beat of a war drum, ears perking atop his skull and salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls. Arturo catches his twin’s attention though and the snowdrop is lost to the fascination of their father. A bit dejected Roarke is about to return to his bone when Molly makes an appearance with a sharp bark.

His dark pelage sister bounds towards him and his butt wiggles despite the low warning growl that erupts unbroken from his throat. He bows his head, lips parted, a single pearly tooth peaking from beneath lifted upper lip. Mine. Roarke is a paradox in that moment — showing possession and ready to spar — er puppy spar anyway — to retain his right to the bone and yet he is undoubtedly happy that Molly is paying attention to him (even if it is for his treasure). He bounds to his paws quickly and lowers himself into a play bow. Spar me for it! He encourages of the first born Lotturo.

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Roarke is up and in position in a matter of seconds, a playful growl on the rift between them. A smirk places up on her muzzle as she focuses on the bone in his possession. She wags her tail a few times before she realizes it and instantly stills its motion. She does not wait any longer and leaps forward, aiming with her mouth wide open to catch some sort of prize.

Eirlys does not prove herself as competition over the bone as she seems more preoccupied with biting Ceannasach’s tail and though this gives Roarke some reprieve he suspects Mallaidh will not be distracted so easily; and he is proven right. His head hovers possessively over the bone — despite that he has initiated playful spar! — watching his elder sister out of the corner of his eye. His lips tremble with in a silent warning and curl back to expose his sharp milk teeth. Her tail wags and his head lowers, lips pressing against the bone, every muscle in his body taunt with anticipation. And then she lunges! He tries to snatch the bone but drops it in his haste and has already flung himself away from it when Mallaidh lands. No! The snarl that tears from his lips is but a pale imitation of what it will become as he grows but it is effective way to communicate quickly and let his displeasure be known. Quickly, he scrambles to try and correct his mistake for the possibility that he may have already lost his prize to his eldest littermate has yet to occur to him.

The initiation of the spar is sloppy and neither of them land where they intended to. Roarke dives past her and she scrambles to get the bone between her paws, several inches away and splayed out on the ground. She glances up to see him flail around until she realizes what he is going back after. Of course. Her eyes widen and she picks herself up, rushing forward to close the distance and take one side of the bone just in time as her brother takes the other half. All warnings are ignored in the meantime and she yanks and yanks and yanks until she either has the bone or he’s taken it right out of her mouth.

i think we could probably wrap this up with your post? :0

He does not correct his mistake. At least, not fully. He lunges for the bone at the same time that Molly does and each of them grasp an end of it. Roarke’s jaws clamp down upon his end, teeth scraping against the bone as he refuses to relent. It was his! He had it first! He levels a stare at her across the bone realizing that if he was going to start a bone collection that he would have to hide it from his other siblings. Else he might return to the den to find them stolen or chewed — his thoughts are cut short as Molly begins to tug on her end. Roarke steels his shoulders and tugs on his own end, small growls tearing from his throat as he digs his back paws into the dirt and gives his head a shake in an attempt to dispel her grasp. Molly is relentless, though, and he thinks that if she wants his seconds that she might as well have them because he can just go get a new bone. He releases the bone with abruptness, letting it slip from betwixt his lips and allows her the victory of it. His tail gives a wag before he pokes his nose into the corner of Arturo’s mouth causing the coy wolf to let out a strangled noise of surprise. The gangster mutters something to Roarke (but the boy was hardly paying any attention) before nosing him a new bone and with a small noise of content Roarke picks it up with a wag to his tail and trots back over and plops down, one paw on his new prize as he starts to worry the yet unmarred bone, sparing Molly a glimpse to make sure she had no designs of stealing this one from him as well.

After a few moments of tugging and pulling, Roarke lets go abruptly. So much so that she staggers and stumbles back and lands in a heap on the ground. But! The bone is hers. She’s clenched so hard that she’s dug grooves into it with such sharp teeth and she’s ready to enjoy her prize as she rights herself up sternal. Roarke, however, has managed to acquire another bone. A better bone. Where did that even come from? She growls a little, dropping her gift and putting one paw on it to still hold her claim. Mallaidh stands as if she’s going to go after it but a rather stern look from Arturo causes her ears to slick back and she slowly shrinks back to the ground. She doesn’t start messing with her bone, however, as her paws place neatly over her own but her greying eyes are locked on to the one Roarke has instead of her.