at slightly over a month old, orr is still mostly a lump, dimly charcoal (were it not for his ember-licked shoulders, he'd be entirely unremarkable), not particularly nosy or interested in experimenting with sounds. sure, he'd given whining a go, when he's displeased by a lack of warmth or a particularly annoying sibling, had even offered a couple of choice babyish barks. but words? didn't suit him. whether it was because he was lagging developmentally or just quiet by nature isn't exactly clear. especially for him, being a child, and all. not exactly able to parse out these sorts of things.

nevertheless, orr is growing, and if he lacks in noise-making, he more than makes it up in waddling about. he's not so much interested in making a break from the den -- what's the point, when his mom (and consequently, his food) and his siblings and the general protective warmth of the den are all right here? who cares what the outside world has to offer? so instead he spends most of his time paddling around the den, clumsily climbing his siblings (/parents, when they're in the vicinity), amusing himself with the up-and-down of walking. and, occasionally, not realizing how close he is to the edge of the den and bonking into the wall. like, as in, right now, and an indignant shriek escapes him at the -- well, at the indigninty of it.

a voice distracts him from his consternation -- the adult dad, the one who doesn't feed him but is warm enough that orr enjoys his presence. he doesn't understand the words his dad says, of course, but he understands the concern in his tone and turns toward him, expression still pulled into a pout. he shuffles away from the offending wall until he is nearly on top of dad's paws.

characteristically he doesn't make any real sounds, aside from a couple of grunts as he manuevers himself across the floor of the den and into place against his father. once settled, though, he opens his mouth. "o-ay," orr says, mimicing the sounds he'd heard, mostly out of curiousity - they'd been addressed to him, after all.

the moment of hurt and suffering is quickly forgotten, as is the way for small children. more interesting is his father's face: orr squints at his wide-eyed expression for a long moment, trying to decipher the mix of visual cues his young eyes can process. the question - whatcha gonna do? does not mean anything to him, other than it is directed at him, and there is some expectation of - something in return.

"do," orr echoes, and latches his small mouth around one of his father's large toes, gnawing lazily.