Blackfeather Woods pissukpok - Printable Version

Her vision had become clearer by the day, and now she knew many faces. Her pale blue gaze darted around the den when she awoke, and Tunerk observed her sleeping mother, and then her sleeping brothers. Moonlight spilled into the denmouth, and next her gaze drifted toward the pale stream of light, fractured by dust motes. The way they moved captured her short attention span, and Tunerk rose onto four legs. Thus far in her life, this was as far as she had gotten before the inevitable tumble—but she had yet to be deterred.

Likely because she had forgotten about the pain that resulted from her many face plants.

One unsteady step, two unsteady steps!—these bled into fourfivesixseven—step eight brought some semblance of stability, and step eight was all she needed. There before her was something that drifted downward, and Tunerk (without the instinct to hunt, yet) found herself wanting to have it for herself. She moved to grab at it with her milk-teeth, and though she did not see it the thing spiralled away. Tunerk sampled her success with her tongue, as she often did, and there was nothing there. Bamboozled, she stepped aside (looking as though she had three drinks too many), looking around for what she had missed.

New movement snared her attention, and the dust mote was a thing of ancient memory by the time the whole of Takiyok had entered the whelping den. Tunerk knew a slew of wolves this shade, and had yet to know fear when it came to strangers; that, and the scent of the other was familiar. Though it had been a while, Takiyok's scent had been a frequent presence once, both individually and upon her mothers furs when she fed.

And so, the brown cub greeted her with a waving tail, the movement so vigorous that her hind legs needed to adjust in order to support the movement. Tunerk did not understand a word the she-wolf said, and though she could hear her ears had yet to go upright and so the sound was not quite so clear as it would be once this transpired. Still, the sounds made interested Tunerk, who crudely mimicked her. Wheaooo, came the noise, indiscernable. Her tail waved upon the show of affection, which caused her to fall onto her rear-end softly. The movement did not stop, however; it still beat steadily against the ground.

Tunerk mutely accepted the kisses, tail continuing to beat against the earth throughout. Once her relative relented Tunerk wriggled on the earth, able to right herself after a moment, and drunkenly made to launch at the pale figure with a loud yap. Not once did her tail cease in its movement, and it certainly effected her trajectory. Her coordination certainly needed work.

Though her relative was mindful, Tunerk was not. When her aunt mouthed her, Tunerk would rumble her displeasure and yap before she attempted to attack again. The same exact launch-style was used, but her jelly-like limbs did not get her very far, and she fell against the plush fur of her aunt.

Her aunt was right; her focus was not what it someday would become, and now, food again became priority. Moving with the coordination of someone without proper faculties of their limbs, Tunerk swayed and stumbled to her mothers belly before she remained there, planting her pink paw-pads on either side of her mother and suckling loudly.