Pups open their eyes around the 11 to 15 day mark. Wolf pups are all born with blue eyes. Their eyesight is poor at this stage and will not become fully clear for several weeks.
it was day fifteen of life.
zosime had already developed routine and staples. in the morning she cried to to her fires of warmth (@Tamar / @Arsenio) until one of them soothed whatever disrupted her. often times hunger.
then sometime in the afternoon she would move alongside her twin flame (@Zulema) until she found her way over to brother sun.
this routine was favored, cherished, followed day in and day out.
but something changed that evening. she stirred from a nap, prepared to cry until fed. only something new had come to her in her sleep. shapes, forms. she could see. which was a word to be used very loosely. but this was more she had ever experienced before.
whatever adult face was nearest had grabbed her attention and she looked upon them for the first time with baby blues.
it belonged to tamar.
she kissed zosime's little face. "you are the loudest voice in the cradle," she said in arabic.
this was a good thing.
she gathered the child closer, looking down into the new eyes of milky blue.
mother fire spoke.
and how she could see! just barely, but she could see! this face was the one that sung to her, fed her, loved her. she knew these things to be true in her heart always.
but now she could see the proof.
"i can see you!"
but it was not the words of her mother, it was the joyous babbling of a baby and yet she felt as if she spoke clear as day.
zosime did not know it, but this was also the first time she smiled.
tamar grinned.
a smile! a little smile below the newly-opened eyes.
her heart swelled with love. tears touched her eyes. she was a study of motherhood and marvel, staring down at little zosime as if she had never seen a soul so finely crafted.
she sang to her mother.
"i see you!
i see you!
the sun has come out!
my mother's face, no doubt!"
but it was babbles and cries, whines. unable to speak still, despite this new arrival of vision. she scooched along the floor of their den. mouth looking to grab the nearest piece of tamar.
singing in the form of little baby squealing.
tamar thought her face might eventually hurt from the grinning. she drummed her paws lightly against the floor of the den. she cupped little zosime's muzzle with a gentle grasp.
"you have your father's voice already!" her soul was delighted.
she was exhausted, truthfully, still but a babe. but she found it in her to mewl softly as her mother cupped her face. a place of joy and excitement.
she attempted to sing more.
but the drooping of just opened eyes already seemed to indicate that perhaps she was not long for the waking world. this did not stop her attempts at rhyming babbles.
tamar pulled zosime closer.
they would sing together until sleep took the babe.
and then into the tiny folded ears tamar would whisper names not yet heard, of grandmother and aunt and cousin. the names she would not forget.
morphe and her small atoms.