Lótë had always been an early riser, for she liked to greet brother sun as he began his path across the sky. At the moment, she was sitting just outside the ulaq she shared with her growing children -- grateful for the reprieve from the nausea that had begun to rise in her throat each morning as the mother completed this ritual. Before @Sialuk's morning howl could even break the silence, a different cry greeted the day -- the playful screech of a young child. The doe's eyes opened as she struggled not to burst into laughter and risk waking those still asleep -- though Mojag had likely already seen to that.

Rising to her feet, the herd-stalker abandoned her sunbathing and trotted in the direction of Mojag's voice -- thinking to keep an eye on him until Shikoba inevitably caught up to the rambunctious boy. 

When she came upon him, Sivullik's son was bumbling after a honeybee. "Hello," the dove managed through her bemused chuckles as she fell in beside the pup, watching his antics with clear mirth. 

Lótë had to bite back her laughter when Mojag appeared to think the greeting had come from the bee, nearly chortling as she tried to smother the sound and prevent herself from interrupting his voyage of exploration. He was definitely a funny lad but then, all pups were at this age. 

"Hello!" Lótë crowed in return when he spotted her, his small face lighting up as he turned to the cloudberry and mimicked her. She dipped down onto her belly, stretching her neck along the ground so that her chin rested upon the earth and she was closer to the boy's level. Her peridots flitted to the bee as it buzzed around a small flower. "That's a bee," she informed Mojag, even though he was still too young to understand most of what she said. 

"Very good!" Lótë complimented the dusky cub with a soft laugh of birdsong, though she couldn't quite be sure whether he understood or was just copying her words -- Lótë would have bet bones on the latter. Even so, Mojag was trying and that should always be praised. 

The mother remained still, though panic bubbled up in her chest as the child dived for her face -- worried about the many sensitive orifices he might injure there. But soon enough, little Mojag slipped off and Lótë giggled with him. She raised her head a bit then, gnawing at him in small, exaggerated movements that were exceedingly gentle -- for she was much bigger than he and she didn't want to harm the curious boy as she played with him. 

After a moment, her muzzle sought to dip under his pudgy belly and jiggle him a little bit. Not enough to hurt or startle him but enough to tickle perhaps, and enough to make him laugh hopefully.

As she'd hoped, her nephew burst into loud guffaws -- sweet baby giggles that warmed the doe's heart. With a wide grin, Lótë swooped in with an exaggerated, "Ahhhh," and began tickling and kissing Mojag's little belly. She herself was breathless with laughter during the whole process and eventually had to stop so they might both catch their breath -- and because her ribs ached with the force of so much amusement. 

She helped roll the seal pup back over onto his feet before straightening to her paws and dipping to brush her muzzle along his crown. "Walk?" she asked simply, gesturing with a jerk of her head and pattering a pace or two forward to help Mojag understand what she meant. Perhaps they could find something interesting to catch the tot's attention or some more bees to terrorize. 

Feeling particularly childish, for she'd not played in such a manner since she herself had been little older than Mojag was, Lótë began to prance about -- half hopping around foolishly and half dodging the boy's attempts to capture her paws. Or at least, as best as she could jerk and bounce about on the balls of her feet with the added weight of her growing belly. She rather resembled a playful domestic dog, dipping and bowing and flitting around. 

 

The game continued -- with much laughter ensuing on both parts -- until Lótë was too breathless and worn down to continue. At last, she tried to gentle the wild child with some placating whines and grooming, slowly leading him back to the heart of the village with the vague thought of finding something that might distract the playful pup.