despite dauntless’ best attempts to fall back asleep he struggled and ultimately failed to tune out the winter songbird’s songs; he squeezes his eyes shut tighter taken by a swell of stubbornness and holding to his guns with certain defiance. he throws a foreleg over his eye and slides it down his muzzle with the reluctancy of a teenage boy not wanting to get up to go to school. the ear not pressed against the cool, hard earth instinctively perked as he heard catori’s chuff and his nose twitched as he sniffed at the air, catching the scent of the hare; that wasn’t fair. dauntless’ stomach is predictable of any growing boy’s: it rumbles and growls at the inviting scent of fresh meat and saliva pools in his mouth involuntarily as he unwittingly thinks about it. he tries not to but it’s futile because he has it’s scent now — and the truth was he wasn’t getting back to sleep anyway. he rolls onto his stomach and stretches, tongue curling as he yawns widely. dauntless stretches as he rises and pads towards his mother. “mornin’ mom,” he murmurs sleepily, offering her a bump of his muzzle to the side of her’s and a lick to her cheek in greeting before he eyes the hare betwixt her jaws as discreetly as he can manage ( which is not all that discreet, admittedly ).