Wolf RPG

He sat at the entrance and stared, held back as if suspended by a glass wall or barrier that prevented him from moving forward. It was all mental. It was all a game. That wall didn't exist in anything except his mind and was built off the suspect of proximity due to whether or not Tonravik would growl if he got too close. She'd drawn her line in the sand. Okay lie. He'd drawn it with a paw to serve as a marker so as to remind him just how far he was able to enter before he was greeted by a snarl.

But it was so damn tempting! Those were his kids in there and he wanted to see their squirmy little bodies wiggle and shit. Okay, maybe not that part. He was thankful that role was something she was sparing him from, but still. He could hear them start to mew and it was absolutely killing him that they were hiding in shadow.

He lowered himself to the ground and crept forward. Maybe if he were small enough, quiet enough, and hidden enough, he could catch a glimpse at them.

The alpha female tended to her cubs as was necessary. Presently, she tended to @Sitamat, who squirmed beneath a paw as she licked at him, cleansing him of the mess he had made after defecating. She paused mid tongue-swipe as she heard the telling click of nails... and when she heard another, she withdrew from her son entirely, leaving him to wriggle on his back like a turtle. Only after he persistently protested did she nose him upright, but her eyes lingered upon the mouth of the den.

Tonravik shifted. The suckling cubs suckled no more. She lay in a crouched position and gave him the growl he was so used to hearing. Too close. She sniffed at the air. No food, either. Tonravik turned to nudge her children protectively behind her. They had all been sleeping soundly except for Sitamat, but as to what their present condition was she was not yet sure. If he came closer, her growl would turn to snarl and rise in pitch... and when she saw him, the mother bear knew that Iqniq understood what would come.

His sleep was disrupted by her displacement of them, her nose shoving them to where she wanted them to be. Again, he did not whimper or whine — or at least he didn't think he did. To everyone else but his siblings, Atuaserk probably sounded like he was mewling, but at least he did so in anger. Like hell she'd push him around.

To get back at her, the blob flailed, aiming to whap her with a paw as he moved to roll onto his stomach. In his revenge, the dirty colored creature wriggled his way past his mother, unknowingly towards his sire and the warmth of sunlight.

He inched forward. Paw over paw, he stole precious centimeters of ground as he near dragged himself across the floor of her hidey-hole. Just a little closer... just a little more... If he could flip his nose around that corner. Shit. His nails gave him away. Curse this darkness. Curse not knowing what lingered in these shadows.

She'd spotted him. Her growl rose in warning as he stared back into the pitch of black and debated whether or not to risk it further. He didn't have to wait long a squirming thing had a mind of its own and it wobbled past. "It wants me," he said, somewhat crazed, but excited that one of his own might just has recognized him. Just a little more... just a little more and he could almost see it...

Atuaserk seemed spirited. His thwap was nothing, given his only legitimate reflex was to stiffen when she picked him up to be carried. At a day old, his worm-like movement also served him not well at all. Tonravik would only fret over their escape when their limbs were stable enough to carry them—today was not that day. Tonravik was quick to grab her child by the scruff and put him near his brothers, and after a quick headcount she placed a hind leg near to feel any of them shifting.

In the meantime, her mate had drawn closer. Close enough to know one of them had moved at all. Her tail flagged aggressively behind her as she postured defensively but took one step forward. His words prompted her into action. The woman charged forward to snap at his face. In matters of their newborns, she would draw blood if she could to ward any and all away, to know the severity of this sort of transgression. It was not her goal, but she would aggressively protect her brood up until the point she no longer needed to. She snarled a long, drawn out note as she withdrew, prepared to launch forward again if she needed to.

One of the small warm things left him. But it was quickly returned, as always. The large thing moved, leaving the four newborns to keep each other warm. Malrok did not protest any of this, seeing as he was drifting in and out of sleep. He squeezed himself as close to his brothers as was physically possible, instinct telling him this was the only way to stay warm enough to stay alive. He looked most like the brother he had followed out of the womb, though he lacked the white markings. In time, they would look worlds apart from one another.

A gurgling in his stomach made him whimper and begin to fuss, flailing limbs clearly unhappy. What goes in, must come out. So went the saying he had not yet learned. Only mother could fix this uncomfortable sensation, but she was nowhere near.

Apparently, she wasn't having his "escape", as he found himself being picked up and placed back with the other warm blobs. True, it was warmer here but he had wanted the other warmth too, where the ground grew hot and toasty. Hot/cold and hunger were the only senses he knew then, and with the energy he had spent in his wriggling, he was now desiring food. The light vibrations of his brother gave of little signs that he, too, was experiencing some kind of upset and Atuaserk added his voice in, crying out for the only one who could sate their young, day-old needs.

No sooner had the words escaped him than the thrumming of footprints upon the ground alerted him that he'd moved well past his welcome. She charged him, snapping her teeth at his face protectively. Reacting, he knew better than to further provoke her and her brood and so he retreated appropriately and sat back down at the aforementioned line in the sand. He huffed. Those were his kids in there too.

"I want to see them," he announced, for no other reason than that it was true. He was perhaps too overattentive for most fathers in his position, but he didn't wish to miss out on this stage of their life that would pass so quickly. He wanted to meet them in as much as she would allow... which was probably nothing, but it didn't hurt to try.

"Show them to me at least?" he attempted, seeking compromise. "One at a time? Carry them into the light so I can see them? Nothing more." It was perhaps too soon to ask her of this, but he was back at his line and she would not have to travel far to introduce each of them in turn. Four of them... and all he'd seen was a daring blob who'd wiggled a little too far in the shadows.

Tonravik watched as he withdrew, fangs catching nothing but air. Her tail lashed behind her. She heard mewling and took a step back herself, but the furs along her nape remained lifted. She knew he wanted to see them, but he could not. Some mothers might have caved to his words, but she did not bend. "Naga," she responded, no. Her ears flitted backward as she heard their protests... and she wrinkled her muzzle at him.

They needed her. "Not yet." Too tiny. Too frail. She did not wish to tempt fate by revealing them to any part of the world, their father included. At only some odd hours old—or was it a day, now? no, light traced him...—she would not reveal them. "I am hungry," was about the only thing she revealed to him presently, and then she retreated backward. The new mother was quick about it, and coaxingly licked the back of Malrok. She listened still for her mate, not willing to lay and tend to the hungry Atuaserk until she heard him retreat or else acknowledge that he would not try this again, so she could rest and do her own duty to and for their children.

He could hear nothing of what they said. Even if he had, he would not have understood a single word of it. He mewled more, louder, his small lungs used to their full capacity as he wordlessly cried out for help. Finally, there it was—comfort as he released the contents of his stomach (from the correct end). The next noise he made was a squeak of delight, happiness still a thing he did not understand. Malrok knew only of comfort and discomfort, but he would learn quickly.

It was strange, this world, but Malrok would fit into it quite well with time. He fussed for a moment longer, now seeking out milk to refill his stomach so that the process could start all over again.

His belly was full, and his bowels empty. His fur was dry and he was comfortable. He had all that he could ask for at this time, until he the warm presences around him began to shift. On some level he could sense the unrest among them, but it meant nothing to him. So young, he (and likely his brothers) were exceptionally sensitive to temperature, and it was this that he responded to. His head bobbed gently as he sought out more warmth, eventually pulling himself to his brother Malrok. His nose pushed against his sibling's ribs before he managed to squirm around until he laid perfectly parallel, and had the length of his body pressed to Malrok's. Sufficiently warm again, he dozed.

After Sitamat had shown his stomach wasn't quite a bottomless pit after all (though it was close to it), he had promptly been ushered from his siblings and held against the ground, belly up. He fussed and cried as something warm and wet washed over his hind, and began wriggling as he struggled to free himself. He wasn't even aware of the mess and foul odour he had blessed the den with, and only wanted to return to the cocoon of warmth he had previously been comfortable in.

As if heeding his wishes, the repetitive motions stopped, leaving him exposed to the cool air. Immediately, the newborn wanted it back, flailing his stubby limbs and squeaking unhappily. In response, he was swept across the ground, back into the warm huddle of his brothers.

They, too, bustled and squirmed as the big thing left them momentarily. Sitamat joined in with the cries, calling back their mother and the precious source of milk and heat. Blindly, he crawled forward, right into Atuaserk's side. He bumped into him and released another cry, frustrated by the sudden commotion and absence of their mother.

He was oblivious to his father's wishes, and even his mother's. He wanted food and sleep and food and sleep and to simply continue his cycle of existence. The warmth was close again and instinctively, he wriggled closer now, but was interrupted by the presence of another, smaller source of warmth. That was good, too and his small body struggled to turn and get closer to the presence of Sitamat. Unknown to them, their mother was quite close and would tend to them all soon enough.

Naga. His ears fell, his own muzzle wrinkling with impatient dissatisfaction as she continued to deny him glimpse of their children. Very well. He would wait, but for how long that would take remained an unsettling amount of unknown time. He wanted to meet them, and would, but their newness and squealing and all that came with his position of standing sentinel outside their den kept him on the outside looking in.

"Krakugo?" he asked, recognizing the simple word and knowing enough of his own mind and the language to reply. When? He could wait for a finite amount of time, but he needed some idea as to how long that might be. Would he have to be patient for another day? Two? A week? He didn't know. He wanted to know. Only then would he be content to leave her and satisfy that endless craving for food that clung to her.

He was away, and would stay that way. It was then she glanced to her cubs and lay, even as he spoke. She drew them nearer to her so they could nurse again, none too gentle in the process. She cleaned both Sitamat and Malrok, the former a victim of the latters uneasy stomach. His question was met with a gruff growl and a numbered response; he would have to wait many days, when their eyes and ears were open and they could interact with others. They could certainly begin to switch shifts once that occurred... but while they were blind and deaf, it would not happen. She wedged Pingasut in between Malrok and Sitamat and propped Atuaserk atop the other side of Sitamat, wrapping around them and loosing a yawn of her own.

Mother cleaned him, and Malrok—for once—did not protest. Instead, he snuggled in when Pingasut was wedged between himself and Sitamat. His head bobbed left, then right, as it so often did, and then he let out a yawn that stretched his tiny wolf cub jaws and lungs to their limits. Content, he began to breathe more steadily, muscles twitching as he entered the first phase of sleep. His was a dreamless sleep, consisting only of a dark void filled with rest. For now, Malrok slept, nestled with his siblings and mostly quiet until he would awake later, ready to start fussing.

He did not enter a deep sleep, and woke to the cries of his brother, and soon after released a surprised squeak as his mother maneuvered him between his siblings. He lifted his head to nose around, with his chin brushing the back's of Malrok and Sitamat. In no time at all, he felt contentment again, and soon his bobbing head came to rest on top of Sitamat. Lulled by the gentle rise and fall of their chests, the third born's mouth broke into a quiet yawn.

She gave him a non-commital number. He frowned, not the least bit satisfied with it. He was generally a patient wolf, but in this his excitement and desire to set eyes on his children (they were still his after all. He'd played a pretty important part in this too...) his almost god-like patience was beginning to crack. They'd have to reach some sort of compromise in this eventually. Eventually. He still had no idea what that amount of time looked like.

Ears flattened, he scowled into the darkness. This was one of those times when he cursed the fact that his mate was so damned instinctual. He'd have to get a little bit more crafty about this in the future...

Their mother returned almost as soon as she had left, and Sitamat quietened slightly, still letting small squeaks escape his tiny maw. He paused only when he felt something warm spill onto his hind as Malrok gifted him his previous meal, which was promptly cleaned up. Confused for only a split second, the boy wriggled as he was ushered into a huddle with his brothers.

His wish for warmth was granted, and the youngest happily allowed himself to be sandwiched between his siblings. One side seemed smaller than the other and, while Pingasut idly nosed his back before letting his head rest on his side, Sitamat squirmed, trying to find a comfortable spot nestled against Atuaserk.

Tonravik thought that matters between she and her mate were settled, a number given (the day they turned a month old) and no rebuke noted. All within the den seemed to relax again, disturbance ended. The second-born fell asleep first, and then Pingasut yawned... she yawned again in turn, and looked to Sitamat who worked on settling himself beside Atuaserk. Tonravik then lay her head down and followed their lead, willing now to take a quick snooze if one could be slipped in, but still attentive.

He lifted his head from his brother's back in another yawn. He stretched his forelegs out in front of him and laid his head down between them, but before he succumb to sleep, his little jaws split in a third and final yawn, this one punctuated by a small squeak. He licked his lips, shuffling his shoulders as he nestled in until he was perfectly comfortable. In the following minutes, he fell in suit with the rest of his family and slept.

One by one, the family succumbed to sleep, but Sitamat still wriggled as he tried to find a comfortable position. The one who had been resting his head upon his back suddenly removed it, and the last born paused for a second as he waited for Pingasut to stop his own moving about. Eventually, all his wiggling and jostling tired him out and, with a wide yawn of his own, the boy pressed his head against Atuaserk's back and was quick to join his brothers in sleep.