It had been days since Njal had left Tuwawi's side, hunkering in the den without a care towards himself. If she asked him for something, he would be out the door to fetch it upon her whim - eager to keep her happy, to prevent her from wasting energy. But always, he returned to them. It was difficult to pry himself away even if it was just to visit a cache; he hadn't visited with any other pack mates either. Bazi had visited the den earlier, but the days blurred together - Njal could hardly remember who had visited, and who had only passed through.
Today, the beast returned with a rabbit hanging from his jaws. He barely placed it upon the ground by Tuwawi before the motion of his little family caught his attention. Njal slumped to the dusty floor of the den to spectate their wriggle matches. He nosed at the children lightly as if to encourage their motion, but... They were such little things still. Sausages with tiny feet and even tinier toes.
The reddest sausage of them all was laying on her belly with her chubby hind legs stretched behind her in a v-formation as if she were doing some yoga position. The little babe was soundly asleep --what a surprise-- when her dad walked in.
When the touch of his nose reached her back, the tiny girl squirmed, giving a soft whimper to awknowledge his presence, even if she didn't see him, she recognized his fragrance. She had learned to recognize most of her family's odours by now; Larus for example smelled of saliva and milk while Jokull had a stronger scent. But definitely the one she liked best was her mum's, warm milk, comforting and sweet.
After wiggling her foot for a bit, the babe tried to find another position since she felt that laying on her belly for to long was beginning to disturb her milk-filled belly and by staying in this position she was prone to liberate gasses more easily. Slowly she allowed herself to roll on her side, but as she was repositioning her little paws a toot! escaped from her bottom. --oops.
Family was not a concept lost to Jökull. Family consisted of six wolves, four of which had a nasty custom of stirring her awake. The other two were far more self-sufficient than she or her siblings. There was mother: preserver from cold winds, milk giver, supplier of love. And then there was one other. One that had no mammilla, and thus no milk. One that is distinctly male, always entering their habitation smelling of soil and arctic winds. She has come to determine that this male was part of their family, despite giving the babes no food. To make up for his lack of milk, he made up with his warmth. Jökull never got tired of Tuwawi, but she did like to switch it up from time to time. Njal was different. Intrinsically so, apparently.
Having spent most of her time with Tuwawi – nestled and suckling against her – Jökull took note of Njal's re-entrance. Raising her head, she chirped to her father and made attempts to move. Wriggling with wild abandon – most likely jarring all of her siblings awake – she squirmed her way over to Njal. Halfway there, Jökull was impeded by a great, toxic wind expelled from...Maera's behind. Friendly fire entered her nostrils. Jökull huffed and puffed, trying to displace the virulent smell from her nose. How dare she! Rude. Daddy would have to wait. Hopefully she will not asphyxiate first.
He should have been aware of the effects a liquid diet would have on a body, but Njal was oblivious. All he knew (and this was recent knowledge) was that his children were all very round, and when he poked at them they sometimes made tiny tooting noises (or other sounds, many of which he found more appealing). The smell in the den suddenly became more noxious, as if the very thought of his gassy progeny had manifested in to some kind of great smog of flatulence; in reality it was just little Meara. As she wriggled and rolled, Njal's attention lingered upon her. At least until another of the children woke, and with a scrunched face was met with a good morning of odorous proportions. Jokull did not seem very pleased, but Njal was too entertained by their tiny expressions to intervene.
For the little red toddler there was no such thing as shame. She was still to young to grasp the concept of being embarrassed, and luckily for her she would probably not remember her little slip up, nor would her sister. Daddy was the only witness.
It didn't matter anyway, now Maera's face was pointing the right direction, she'd just have to propel herself forward until her nose butted against his large paws. Letting a little whimper to escape from her mouth she began kicking furiously, each time getting closer to her objective.
What must have been no more that a few inches felt like a mile to her, reaching the tip of his toe was an ordeal --or maybe she was too lazy-- either way, when her nose finally bumped into something she gave a tiny shriek of triumph. She then rested her heavy head on his paw and wriggled to get as close to him as she could
Jökull was not exempt from passing gas. She did it when her tummy noised uncomfortably, adding to gastric distress. But she never – never – farted in her siblings' faces. Or so she thought. Maybe she was flatulent in her sleep? And this was all some grand scheme just to get back at her! That Maera. Too smart for her own good.
Sensing the movement of Maera, Jökull aimed to “walk” alongside her. Not one to be surpassed (even though there was no competition; it was all in little Jökull's head), she wriggled her way over to Njal just as her sister did. Along the way, the gunmetal Sveijarn got turned around. Somehow, she ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere. No Njal or Tuwawi was there to warm her, or feed her. Maera's outcry of victory saddened her. Maera got to daddy, yet she did not. What gives?
Jökull squirmed ever onward – unintentionally coming upon Njal's furriest extremity: his tail. Peeping, she realized that it was not the body of her father; just an appendage. Miffed, she attacked it, gumming at the plush fur, trying to “kill” it. Or make it change into something more accommodating. Because her parents were wizardly adept when it comes to transforming body parts. Especially Tuwawi. Moving young around was nothing magical, but Jökull would have to disagree.
When Maera wiggled close, Njal lowered his head to watch as closely as he could. It still mystified him that something so tiny could do so many things. The little bundle of energy finally gave up her attempts when she was close enough to plop her head down. As soon as her face was planted upon his paw, he wiggled his toes—making her head bounce lightly up and down, left and right. Njal was curious about what sort of reaction his little daughter would have, and thus his attention drifted from the first-born for a moment.
It didn't last long though. Njal felt a strange wetness on his tail, and jerked his eyes around in time to see Jokull wrestling with the fluff that grew there. He was lucky she didn't have teeth yet. Carefully, the father reached over and grabbed Jokull—his mouth slipping around her muddle rather easily—and after a brief period of being airborne, the tiny glacier was deposited next to her sister. Following this, Njal administered a series of wet licks to both of his daughter's faces, trailing his affection over the dustier areas of their exposed backs as if to clean them.
Maera expected to nap at daddy's feet, but it seemed her father had a different idea -- she couldn't even bury her nose between his toes before having her head rattled. Somehow the sudden movement took away the babe's desire to sleep, her exhaustion was quickly forgotten and as quickly replaced by a craving to keep playing with dad. As her tiny head bobbed up and down she gave a tiny coo that could be interpreted as laughter.
Sadly the ride ended promptly, and the tiny Sveijarn being unsatisfied with just one go opened her mouth to give daddy a demanding squeak. But instead of getting his attention, she made Jökull appear out of nowhere. Her sister was received with a flick of her foot and another squeak this time hoping to call Njal and not make another sibling pop out next to her.
But once more her pleads were ignored, daddy had no intention of playing, he had something else in mind. A wet kiss was smeared across Maera's face. That was not what she wanted! She tried to backpedal out of his reach but his tongue was probably the size of her whole body so her escape plan was doomed from the start. Another lash of his tongue reached her face this time covering her minuscule nose for a frightening second.
There was no doubt Maera liked mommy's tender kisses better, though that did not mean she didn't appreciate her father's love. She gave a mewl in protest and squirmed wildly, if she could just tell him she wanted to play! Unfortunately the day she would begin to speak was still distant which meant she'd have to settle with unwanted baths all the time.
Daddy was a wizard, too; picking her up and placing her down beside the warm plushness Jökull identified as Maera. Her sister received her adequately, pleasing the eldest. Jökull made movements to hush her sister, knowing she wanted to play. Then Njal's tongue suddenly came into the equation. Oh. His tongue was not as tender as Tuwawi's, but it was no less loving. It felt different, slicking down her fluff with languid licks. Jökull basked in his attentions, patient as he went from one daughter to the next.
Up until Maera threw a tantrum. Sis wanted to play. Jökull needn't speak to understand that much. Maybe there was some unspoken understanding between Jökull and her siblings...or maybe that is just how pups are?
Unable to think on it beyond that, Jökull lifted her heavy head and put it on Njal's paw. Momentarily admiring the flexing tendons there, she slid her head down his long, ginormous digits, mouth resting before one long claw. Taking it within her mouth, she instinctively suckled on it at first, but then she remembered Maera wanted to play, so Jökull pulled. She pulled with all her might while backpedaling (or trying to) towards her cerise sister.
Jökull was spurred on by Maera's yips and movements. She is the heart of this endeavor. Jökull was just the muscle.
His children were so small, it was a wonder to him that they would one day become big and strong like himself or his wife; that they would continue to wield the Sveijarn family name as they made their way in the world. They were sausages now, but one day... One day they would be warriors and hunters, explorers and caretakers. Njal was understandably mystified by these thoughts as they flitted through his mind. Maera called for attention, Jokull nibbled at her father's toes and tried to pull his paw closer, and all the new father could think was, you are amazing. They didn't need to be adults for Njal to recognize that. The man sighed softly and, giving in to Jokull's pulling, allowed his paw to be taken hostage.
sorry o-o' this is mega old and i totally forgot about it
A couple of sniffles followed by a whine was all that was given by the little red sausage after the gentle tongue of her father swiped over her face. She wiggled her head some more before a heavy curtain of sleep fell over her body. Napping was already one of the pups main activities but Maera pushed it to the limit. If she could eat and sleep at the same time --she had fallen asleep once while nursing but that didn't count-- she'd be the happiest girl.
For now, however she was content to sleep at her father's feet.
Njal's paws were fat and heavy, but she succeeded in pulling it closer to her. Her sausage of a tail wagged triumphantly. However, the exertion of moving something far bigger than herself and expressing her triumph was quite draining. Letting go of Njal's paw, Jökull spread out all four of her pudgy limbs and dozed. She did not need the company of her siblings to sleep, nor the reassuring heat of her mother. It was not long before she joined Maera in la la land.