The second born pup was far too young to understand concepts of kindness, or the rare chance to witness something unexpected like an old rival bringing food and calming plants to another mother in need. Piper did not know of the loving aunt who guarded the outside of the den through each passing day and night, or the resounding devotion that the two sisters felt for each other. The red piebald pup knew only that her mother was the most familiar scent – aside from Thing One (Lucas) and Thing Two (Wyatt) – and she was comfortable nestled beside the warmth of it. It was the loud young girl who had made the mewling noise. She had lifted her head upward and parted her lips to release a cry of delight before she puttered around, aiming to find something pleasant that she could curl up beside. Still blind as a bat, Piper could not have determined the differences between a grizzly bear and a possum if she were two inches from either one. She scooted herself a few inches before she mewled again in the form of a demand for assistance.

The days before the birth of the Redleaf trio had been difficult and tasking on their mother and their aunt, but Piper wasn’t aware of this in any stretch of reality. All she knew was that she had teetered just a bit too far form her mother’s reach and she was not getting the attention that she needed to get back where she belonged. If Piper’s eyes worked well enough to see the soft smile that was afforded to her both Laurel, she would have stood aghast that her own mother would ignore her pleas for warmth and nourishment. The heat-seeker was starting to feel the chill that swept across the den floor and she shuddered against it with an alarming squeak and then a cry that stretched on far too long for her weak lungs to have managed. When she had finished making noise, the Redleaf girl waited impatiently for her mother to tend to her needs; she only wanted food and warmth so that she could return to sleep after her hard day of circling in the same general area.