Wolf RPG

The puncture wounds granted by Rakharo were now scabs; a series of marks that formed half circles on either shoulder. As Papref grew, so would the scars that would eventually form, preventing the fur that would grow there from laying flat. He would never remember the moment he received them, but those scars would be a constant reminder of his position as a slave.

For now, however, the little coyote's entire world was simple. After the commotion of birth, his existence had settled into a quiet darkness— the warmth of his mother's body and the bodies of his siblings, the smell and taste of milk, the hazy worlds of sleep and wakefulness. He nestled at his mother's teat, gorging himself on nourishment.

The first week of her life was quite dull compared to that first day, a monotonous cycle of sleeping and feeding. Of course, she didn't know any better. Regipre was content, save for the occasions when her mother left the den (she would fuss until Tomahawk returned) or one of her two remaining litter mates disturbed her in some way. When that happened, the eldest of the three proved quite feisty. She would flail her stubby limbs at the culprit. Regipre had exceptionally good aim for a blind babe.

Though Tomahawk had two or three times as many teats as pups, Regipre decided today that the one currently in Papref's mouth rightfully belonged to her. She shoved against her brother, thrashing her forelimbs in the direction of his head in an attempt to dislodge him from the choice nipple. Her mouth opened too, revealing the tips of brand new fangs poking from her pink gums. She yowled like a cat, determined to reclaim the nipple by whatever force necessary.

Day in and day out it was the same old same old. She ate. She whined. She slept. She woke up and repeated it all over again. Her world was small. Her world was simple. She was not yet capable of much more than knowing whether something was good or not good. Was she sleeping? Sleep was good. Was she eating? Eating was good. Constipated? Not good. Hungry? Not good. She responded to these things accordingly and squirmed and fussed as needed.

All three of them were laying in something of a row. Herself. The boy. The other girl. It was feeding time again and there was more than enough to go around. She wrapped her little lips around a teat and suckled softly only have her body rock. She was close enough to her brother that a movement to him was a chain reaction of a movement in her. She whimpered and rolled, pushing back at him with tiny paws from the other side as she moved to reclaim her meal.

The pups jostled among themselves, though Tomahawk quickly put a stop to the miniature brawl by clasping Regipre's scruff and placing her on Sart's other side, leaving Papref to reclaim his teat. Of course, this didn't make the eldest very happy. Although she went limp while being transported, she made a noise somewhere between a bark and a sneeze as soon as Tomahawk set her back on the den floor. Her ears fell back indignantly and her lips wrinkled back from her teeth.

A few swipes of her mother's tongue pacified her somewhat, though Regipre had not forgotten her mission. She thrust her tiny snout against Tomahawk's belly, rooting rudely around for a nipple. When she found one (the one directly next to Sart's head), she latched on more forcefully than was really necessary, as if simultaneously punishing her mother for interfering and letting her siblings know that this one was hers.

Something shifted on the other side of her brother and Sart was given better access at the fountain of food. She suckled lightly, withdrawing only to hiccup as she suddenly became full. Oh no. Maybe a little too full. The next hic brought a splatter of milk from her mouth as the world shifted a bit when her sister was placed back on her other side. She was close. Too close.

The uncontrollable hic, caused her body to jump. The top of her head met with the suckling Regipre. The sensation was uncomfortable. The extra body heat around her, uncomfortable. She began to wail between hics as their mother tried to soothe her, but nothing would help until the sputtering hiccups chose to stop.

No one challenged her claim to the nipple, though there was a strange juddering coming from one of her fellow pups. Regipre made her displeasure clear by growling without letting go of the teat. This caused her to swallow a great deal of air and—wouldn't you know it—she began to hiccup too. The strange sensation caused her to unlatch as she and Sart twitched back and forth like a pair of overgrown Mexican jumping beans.

Reggie's hiccups did not last long, as she eventually burped, then spat up a little bit. Just as quickly as the partially digested milk came flowing back out of her mouth, her mother swooped in to clean her. The tiny coyote rumbled at all of this, then squeaked in surprise when nudged back toward Sart again. Her face mashed gently into her sister's shoulder blade and she instinctively opened her mouth and began to gum it.

Their bodies jumped together. Well, out of sync. Out of time. One jump was followed by a hiccup from her sister, then it was her turn and they all flailed uncontrollably for a time until they eventually subsided. Their mother swept in, cleaning up the mess of bubbled milk as she further attempted to soothe them. For a time, Sart was quiet and content.

Then there was some odd pressure on her shoulder.

Limbs moved without purpose as she squirmed, wiggling and wobbling until she flipped onto her back and effectively removed her shoulder from her sister's soft mouth. Her paw fell, pressing against her sister's cheek as she squalled and tried to bring her little world back into a state of what felt right. What felt good.

It felt good to press her gums against something simultaneously firm and soft. It didn't last long, though. It was pulled from her grip. Regipre grunted, then snorted loudly when a paw squashed against her face. She turned her tiny snout to bite at it, though her toothless mouth wouldn't do much harm. In fact, Sart might even enjoy the sensation.

But she spat out her sister's foot after a moment and found the strength to push herself upright into a sitting position, albeit with one shoulder leaning heavily against Tomahawk's belly. She loomed blindly over her litter mates, forgetting about them as she rubbed her cheek against her mother's warm underside. Even when she wasn't eating, it was a source of comfort.

She pressed her paw against her sister's snout. The wolf gummed at her toes and after a quick start, she realized the sensation wasn't half bad. It was interesting. Definitely different than what she was used to and a heck of a lot better than her shoulder.

Unfortunately, it was short lived. Regi spat out her paw and Sart found herself pressing that same paw right back up against her face as if to prompt her to do it again. Mission failed as the coypup sat up and out of the way. Sart's tiny paw fell on nothing, maybe some other part of her sister, but it was not quite the same as the chewing. She pawed a couple times before giving up and turning her lips back to a teat where she in turn began to gum.

As the seconds passed, Regipre leaned more and more heavily into her mother's belly. The rise and fall of Tomahawk's flank subconsciously reminded her of the time spent in the womb, the gentle drifting to the rhythm of her dam's heartbeat. It lulled her into a bit of a stupor, though like many infants, Reggie fought against sleep.

When Sart resumed nursing right beside her, the scent of fresh milk roused Regipre momentarily. She absently nosed Tomahawk's underside until she rediscovered a teat of her own. She slipped down onto her own belly, then pancaked onto her side, and fell fast asleep despite herself, milk dribbling from her slack maw.

She gummed along her mother's teat. Milk splattered, missing her mouth at first until she maneuvered herself more appropriately and began to suckle once more. It didn't take long for her to remember she was already full. A white river was expelled from her mouth and quickly cleaned by the efforts of her mother.

She crooned lightly, somewhat enjoying the attention as she surrendered to the subtle rhythms of licking, breathing and the overall hush that had settled within the den. Though she could neither hear, nor see, there was something about this scenario that just felt right again. She dozed, contented until the next time she required care.