Blackfeather Woods Did I just seal the deal?
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When Ramsay awoke that morning to begin his daily routine of searching for food, napping, and attempting to stand, he blinked open a pair of navy eyes and immediately froze. His vision was muddy at best, but there was something other than the inky blackness that defined his world and that was enough to stun the babe. The denim blues that peered out of his sockets squinted against the light of the world. He could only perceive vague shapes and motion, but already it felt way too bright and way too busy.

The novelty of it made him wail fitfully as he sought comfort in the crook of his mother's belly, only his mother wasn't close enough for him to find her. Ramsay knew somewhere in his consciousness that she would have rejected him anyway, having come to expect that throughout his short life, but it did nothing to calm his need for attention and love. The stunted pup searched for her with his nose, rising unsteadily on awkward limbs and toppling over again in short order as he headed for her, but the distance was insurmountable without her cooperation, and he settled for merely crying out after only a few minutes of effort.
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#2

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Opioid abuse.

She fed them when she was demanded to. Her body and mind were still weak after the toil of carrying and then bearing the daemons that had crawled out of her womb. Only three remained. One was "normal", the exact match of his father-uncle. The other two bore crippling deformities that would mark them for life. And the one worst of all was mewling now, searching for her.

She glared at him from the farthest corner of the den, too far for him to reasonably reach. A year ago she remembered watching her first litter go through the same steps as the stunted one now went through. She remembered the pride that she had felt, how careful she was with them, how loving, and how it brutally contrasted with the void in her stomach, eating away at her soul. 

Potema grimaced, turning her head away from the sight of the stunted boy's wide eyed movements. She lapped at a few of the black seeds besides her. They were the only things keeping her afloat in the past few weeks, and she steadily consumed more with each passing day. Constantly in a opioid fueled haze, she knew that she was deteriorating, but it was so peaceful that she didn't want to stop. Like she was floating, gliding over her problems. Her head slowly rocked back and forth with no rhyme or reason.
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From crippling darkness, at last came light. The girl awoke from slumber one day and found a new sensation: she could lift her eyelids, weak as they were from unuse. Her baby blues popped open, twin bright orbs in the den.

It was not perfect; her vision would remain murky for some time. But at last, Maegi was able to make out shapes, dull colors. Her own pelt, which matched that of her mother's, laying in a delirious haze several steps nearby. And her brothers, one solid dark, one with a mottled gray and white pelt. She noticed that the former had his eyes open, too, and stumbled toward him with a squeak of joy.

He was small, and incredibly stunted, though Maegi didn't realize that this wasn't the norm for young ones; he could be a late bloomer, after all. He was crying for Potema, mouth wide as he pleaded. She settled down next to him with a muffled thud on the stone floor and nestled her muzzle into his neck, curling her longer, more supple body against his.

She didn't have the word for it quite yet, but the emotion she'd later call love coursed through her, racing alongside the blood in her veins as she embraced her little brother. For if their mother would not answer, she would care for him herself. As best she could.

The world had grown so much bigger in just a few moments.
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In the days following, the whimperer and squeaker had grown far quieter, as if in acceptance of his hunger and unfulfilled needs. He would still peep on occasion — for instance, as if to say where are you? — as he did that morning when he first woke and found his siblings weren't beside him again. The pup lifted his head, and as he turned to suss out scent or otherwise detect his littermates, his eyes blinked open. Euron startled with a hic! as his eyes fell upon Ramsay — who appeared to him a moving shadow, that was soon accompanied by a scent and recognition. Euron's tail wiggled back and forth. It was his brother.

His attention was swiftly stolen then by a brighter form that was also moving. His sister. Maegi curled up to Ramsay and the pair became the littermate blob. Euron started toward them, but quickly stopped. There was a third form to be noticed at the back of the den. Bright as his Maegi and far larger. His tail stopped wagging. For a long time he simply stared at her, his mother. He could feel the hot embers of hunger deep in his gut. Yet for now he continued his advance toward the siblings as he felt a chill against his skin. He was too young to generate enough of his own warmth, and the nature of their birth was further perverted in that it occurred in the wrong season entirely.

Euron was quickly developing his locomotion. His sense of balance and grace even for a pup was profound, and the slap of clumsy puppy paws on the den floor was softening. Upon reaching his siblings he butted his snout against Maegi's cheek and tapped Ramsay on his head with a forepaw.
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He struggled to find strength in his limbs to pull him toward Potema once more, squealing loudly as her head moved. He knew she was awake; why wasn't she responding to him? Ramsay only knew what instinct dictated, but even a newborn knew that calling out for their mother was supposed to summon her protection. Potema seemed not to hear him, and he slumped against the floor once more, defeated. He only moved again when a white smear of motion entered his line of sight. Mistaking it for his mother, the boy lifted his head and squealed, only to feel it pressed back to the floor by a heavier force on his excuse for a neck.

Though he wanted nothing more than to reach Potema and satiate his hunger, he felt content for a moment as Maegi curled around him. Euron's coat was too dark for him to make out with his limited sight, so he didn't see his brother coming toward them until the last moment, when a miniscule blob of white rose up and bopped him on the head. Ramsay squeaked indignantly and began to shuffle in place, seeking an escape from the blob that had conglomerated at his location.
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She watched as they all came to life, blearly cursing that they had all survived another day, sick at the fact that their eyes were now opening. They were all hale and healthy, their natural curiosity as pups overcoming their physical deformities. The three pups moved, attempting to find her, but found each other, lying in a heap.

She shifted, staring down at them from her corner. They were all placed perfectly, curled up against one another in a blob of her mistakes. She could stand up right now and crush them all. If only her body would respond to her thoughts.
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She let out a little squeal as Euron pressed his nose to her cheek, relishing the touch. Ramsay was struggling to get away from her embrace, and she supposed she couldn't stop him. Enveloped in the warmth of her brothers, she felt safe and content. 

Unbeknownst to her, Potema was looking upon them with disgust. The love a mother ought to have for her litter was missing, which undoubtedly would leave an indelible mark on the young Maegi.
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Euron's mission was a simple one: find warmth and go back to sleep. His brother's shuffling did nothing to deter or otherwise discourage him because even if Ramsay wriggled away, Maegi was there and seemed to be going no where. The last born pressed himself in to his littermates and breathed a soft sigh of relief, murmuring in contentment as he felt the heat of their bodies against his skin. Euron was soon dozing again.

Last post.
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At some point, the boy abandoned his efforts. His hindquarters were still smushed under the combined weights of Euron and Maegi, while his truncated upper torso was beyond the blob. He fell asleep that way, exhaustion crashing over him without warning and causing his chin to sag to the den floor, oblivious to Potema's hateful stare from a dark corner.
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Potema finally found her strength, her body unsteady, wobbling as she rose. She knew she did not have the strength to crush them. Lay on them perhaps, but not enough to snuff them out. With whatever vigor she had left, she walked out of the den, unwilling to remain and watching the bliss of the mistakes and sins she made.