The quaintest situation happened today: Jökull opened her eyes. The first thing that she saw was...well, nothing. Nothing but amorphous shapes of color. Even the forenoon light cascading into the den was little else but muzzy shafts. Alarmingly, some of the blobs moved. The gentle rise and fall of mother's tummy, the fallible appendages of her siblings twitching in their sleep...She saw all these things, thinking that this was how the world actually was – how it actually looked. Nothing felt this indistinct or fuzzy. Mommy was soft, just like her siblings. That is all she had known up until now; the only thing that mattered to her in this world. How indistinct everything was! She imagined things would be sharper, to where she could see each off-white fur of Tuwawi's abdomen, or the silver of her eyes. How disappointing. Still, she did not let it get to her.

Breaking free of the cluster consisting of brothers and one sister, she peered blindly into the other side of the hiding place. Where was daddy? She wanted daddy. But if there was one thing Jökull did not do, it was cry. Oh, she was capable of shrieking with the best of them. Of that, there is no doubt. If mommy was gone for a long amount of time, she would scream. But other than that? Jökull was mostly silent. Save for sounds of demand or disgruntlement, of course. Growling and woofing appealed to her more. She thought the sound of whining was irritatingly wanton? And high-pitched. Yeah. No thanks.

The opening to the outside world was terribly alluring. She could not see beyond the near solid white divider dribbling into the den. But there was something out there – something unexplored. Maybe even daddy. That gave her the courage to crawl to the opening, stopping at the mouth to appraise the area. It was morning, yet there was no gold light to be seen. The sky was lily-white, from what she could see. And then came the flora: green for what seemed like miles every which way. There really is something outside of the den. It is larger and manifestly grander than herself.

Jökull was content "sitting upright" just analyzing the sights, the smells, the noises, the air-dried earth beneath her feet...Up until her recollection of being on a mission. Where is Njal? Giving the area a once-over, she concluded that he was nowhere within the immediate vicinity. At least, not to the naked eye. As such, he was inaccessible. This newly discovered vastness was too immense. She was too tiny to cover adequate ground in search of her father. That did not stop her from trying, though.

At first, there was no sound aside from the chirping of birds. Nor was there any immediate movement. Jökull was still fascinated by the way the air was cooler out here than it was in the den, how stray grasses pricked at her untraveled paws, how the trees towered so far above her. She knew nothing of this world – a clean slate, but she was willing to learn. Before she could go into deep thoughts about how all of this – this green, this air, these trees – came to be, movement caught her eye. Taken by surprise, the biggest Sveijarn pup watched and listened to the events unfolding before her dazzling blue eyes.

She thought that the cerise blob approaching her was momma, but then she remembered momma was still in the den. So, Jökull suppressed the urge to gallop up to this nameless wolf and pester her for milk...or regurgitated meat. Better yet, she could show it (Leaf) her teeth! They were brand-new, white, and tiny, but razor sharp. Instruments of destruction that she wanted to test out. As a matter of fact, she did just that; pretending to yawn.

Watching Leaf bow stimulated Jökull, but she did nothing quite yet; attention affixed to the wriggling...thing hanging from her mouth. What is that? Presented with the rodent – bound by what looks like a hairless tail – Jökull's ears jerked forward atop her skull. It was dreadfully noisy, but why? Deep down, Jökull knew why, but...well, she was not sure if she should embrace those impulses.

“Uwah?” Inarticulate questioning for the red miss. Words. Their meaning escaped her, but she knew the wolf who smelt vaguely like mommy and daddy asked her something. Jökull grew tired of thinking, of deciphering these words. Looking down upon the mouse once more, she lifted a paw to bat at it. Touching it – feeling it's brushed fur, it's muscles rippling beneath the skin – startled her. She jerked her arm back and tilted her head at it before looking up into the face of Leaf. Was she going to touch it?

Leaf was astute to touch upon the Sveijarn's vanity; it is a facet of Jökull forming personality. When the ruddy pixie sung a tune of dissatisfaction, Jökull puffed out her chest indignantly. She could lick that mouse, no problem!

Looking down at the static animal, she lowered her muzzle to inspect him. Despite his motionlessness, she could see his abdomen rise and fall with a more concentrated stare. Sniffing his cranium with her cold, wet nozzle, she opened her maw and flicked at his head with her tongue. Whatever was going through his tiny brain, he did not like that. Flipping over onto his feet with a squeak, he clambered earnestly to be free of Leaf's hold; zipping every which way to escape his demise. Beholding the rodent's struggle just so awoke something within Jökull. A thing of necessity, of brutality.

There was no faltering in springing upon the mouse with bared teeth. She sought to sink her dentition into the mouse's body. Anywhere would do. So long as she found purchase.

Her fangs found their mark, clenched around the pest's midriff. Ah, sweet success. Nothing like it.

Meeting the wolf's verdant gaze with a proud aspect, she waited for further direction. More words. Jökull watched as she opened and closed her mouth. Hey. She had teeth, too! And they were bigger than hers. Taken by those pearly whites, Jökull was ever so slowly hypnotized by the motion of mandible and maxilla; the prowess of dentition fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. With each audible snap of Leaf's jaws, Jökull's own copied those motions. First, she gummed her prey. Before too long, however, her fangs perforated the tender epidermis of the mouse.

Then the squeaking and struggling really began.

Startled by the mouse's agonized yells, Jökull gripped him ever snugger; fiercer. Blood – her first real taste of it. A delicacy unlike any other, but not as fulfilling as Tuwawi's milk. Instinct wound her jowls tighter and tighter until there was nothing left but a squasy, insipid carcass. Unhinging, she finally let the mouse go. It lifelessly fell to the ground, still leaking blood.

Jökull was fascinated. Fascinated by the metallic sapidity coating her tongue, by the force she exhibited just now and by the very real, very empowering sentience of having ended a life. One so minuscule, but nonetheless a life. Should she not be feeling something else, though? Guilt? Regret, perhaps? She felt both, yes, but they were so infinitesimal compared to how satisfied she is.

Locking her gaze with the fox-like pixie before her, Jökull grinned a gory smile. Her's was the visage of violent delectation, for Leaf has given her the gift of Death.

Jökull was just a sprout enjoying her first kill. Nothing malignant about that, right? Although, if this was the first time Leaf has seen such...barbarity from a pup, Jökull would understand. Right now, she was pleasantly elated. She only ever felt this way when her parents praised her, or her siblings submitted to her. There was not a whole lot that gave Jökull such all-encompassing joy such as she felt now. But that joy met a quick end, picking up on Leaf's regret. Maybe she should turn her joy down. Just a little bit.

Leaf's praise – however measly it sounded – lit up Jökull's face. Tail wagging from the woman's touch, the Sveijarn looked on in avid fascination as she promptly beheaded the mouse and ate it. Squirming this way and that – eyes never straying from the seam of Leaf's mouth – Jökull knew what was coming. She urged Leaf on with yips and tail wags that seemed to travel through her entire body.

'Twas not long before the fairy vomited it back up, all nice and pulpy. Jökull wasted no time in devouring all of it. Finished, she licked her lips and took a few steps closer to Leaf. Aiming to nose the woman's cheek, Jökull begged the only way she knew how: by high pitched whines and pinned ears. May I have some more, please?

Begging was met with anguished apologies. What? Was there nothing left in that lithe body that could not feed her? Having whet her palette with meat, it was understandable why Jökull wanted more. But what she did not understand was that there was a limit; always a definitive, frustrating cap on how much an adult could store in their stomach.

Jökull thought all meat originated from some incomprehensible, reverse black hole inside of her uppers. She still does, actually. Leaf was...withholding for some odd reason.

When the pixie reclined theatrically onto her back, Jökull connected the dots: Leaf did not want to throw-up anymore. Instead, she wanted the Sveijarn to nurse upon her. Not one to decline, Jökull answered the imp's proposition; straggling over to that adolescent body and poking and prodding her midsection. Leaf was positioned in such a way so as to not receive her, but to make it exceedingly difficult to find anything to grab onto. Let alone a teat.

Growing frustrated, Jökull began to whine...No, that's not right. A more appropriate term would be “bitch.” Speaking some baby babble about adults and their hidden nipples. “Hrngh! Hrnuff nuff...Dway nata!” Blast! Where is a nipple! But Leaf was not one to let her feed so easily, rolling over onto her front just as quickly as Jökull went about poking her midriff. The Sveijarn let out an indignant snort. If Leaf would not let her suckle, mama will! Turning around, she marched back into the den with all the grace of a peg legged cripple. I prefer mommy's milk anyway!

- EXIT -