Sun Mote Copse My whole squad's in here, walking around the party

With the evening of day one fast approaching, Alyx awoke for the umpteenth time with rumblies in her tumblies. This prompted a visit to her favourite teat, where she drank and drank and drank until she was ready to explode, then drank some more. By now she was becoming somewhat familiar with her bodily functions, having been forced to exercise them on several occasions already by Niamh, so she knew what to expect after a feeding.

Twisting pain in her gut was not the expected outcome. First she grunted and began squirming around, recognizing that she was uncomfortable but at a complete loss for how to deal with it. It wasn't the same as gas. It wasn't the same as what she felt when Niamh licked her bottom and stimulated her to go potty. It was more visceral, deeper, and accompanied by waves of nausea.

Without any warning besides her uncomfortable wriggling, Alyx parted her teeny tiny toothless jaws and projectile vomited onto Niamh's belly.

"Ohh, guhhh." With the time that had passed, Niamh had forgotten exactly how much mess puppies made in the weeks before they were able to go outside. While it was sweet, how they would just snuggle up to her, and how they were still too young to say the word "NO!!!" There wasn't much endearing about cleaning up after them. And wolves didn't have Swiffer Wetjets on hand to clean up the messes. Survival dictated that she keep their den area clean so that other predators would have a harder time sniffing them out, and so that there wouldn't be mould and bacteria growing in their den. But that didn't mean she liked it. Not wanting anyone to see her covered in baby barf the next time she went out to relieve herself, she cleaned her own fur up too, and then turned her attention back to her daughter. 

Sensing something might've caused the dark pup's stomach to be uncomfortable, she began to gently massage her sides and belly with her tongue, hoping to soothe whatever cramps she might've had, and to help get things flowing in the right direction. "Gotta keep yourself lookin' pretty, baby girl," She cooed. "You wanna find yourself a man someday, you gotta not have barf all over you. An' don't barf all over him either," She coached. "Guys don't dig that."

The horror show was over as quickly as it started, with Alyx clapping her gummy jaws shut and whistling a plaintive complaint. Her mouth was coated with sour-tasting scum and she was left feeling shaky. At least the pain in her belly had lessened. The smell of sour milk assaulted her nose and she scrunched her pugged muzzle. Instinctively, she began flailing her arms in an effort to turn away from the stench.

Then came Niamh to the rescue. She couldn't hear her mother's logic, but Alyx would've wholeheartedly agreed if she could. Looking pretty was everything. And even if she couldn't hear and didn't yet have the faculties to appreciate this, Alyx did appreciate any form of attention. She veritably melted under the warmth of her mother's tongue, flattening into a cooing puppy puddle with each sweep of Niamh's tongue. Behind her, her tiny worm-like tail wriggled with delight.

Kids were messy at this age, but generally, they were easy to impress, as long as you nailed down which one of three or four things they seemed to want. Their wants coincided directly with their needs, so she didn't have to worry about more abstract things as moral dilemmas, as she would with her older kids. Presently, she had yet to see any sign of Nellie, who she assumed might still avoid her, and her den, for the time being. But she tried not to think of it- and thankfully, she had three little ones who demanded a lot of her attention. 

"There. An' you got such pretty blonde markings on you, too. An' you, missy," She said, turning her attention to the twin who was close by Alyx's side. Though he was calm, Primrose too merited attention simply because she loved him, and she tucked him a bit closer to her, and gave him a kiss as well. "You an' your sister are gonna have alllll the boys runnin' after you. An' your brothers are gonna have their hands full tryin' to put them back in their place." She said proudly. "Only the best husbands and wives for my little darlings." She said, and continued to preen her daughter.

Niamh needn't worry about little Alyx. It would be ages before she even was able to entertain finding a suitable mate on account of being related to nearly every wolf in the pack. If that wasn't enough, then the fact that odds were high of Alyx growing up to have an extremely lofty opinion of herself certainly would keep most sensible men at bay. Good looks and a doting mom who complimented said good looks? Sounded like a recipe for vanity if ever there was one.

Thankfully, right now she was little more than a ball of black fur with some faint bronze markings who didn't know what she looked like, what that meant, or what a husband was. She knew simple things, like when she was hungry or what to do when her belly was massaged or how to whimper and whine when she needed something. Nothing so troublesome as manipulating boys or breaking hearts.

Although Alyx did already know that she craved the lion's share of attention, so much so that she began to protest loudly the minute Niamh's attentions moved from herself to her siblings.

Niamh continued to dote over her children, spending, at first, some time with Alyx given the fact that she seemed to need a bit of extra care after having had an upset belly. "Y'know, I bet your big brother Bronco's gonna use you kids to try an' get himself a girlfriend someday," She said, and smoothed the fur along Alyx's sides where it turned gold. Without even knowing what she looked like, there was definitely a pattern that Niamh tended to trace, along her blonde highlights. "Girls LOVE seeing a guy who can play with and handle kids." She said. "'Cept I totally expect you three to give him hell and make him work for his babysitting badge," She said, chuckling. 

She turned her attention for a moment to Quetzal, smoothing the identical markings along the top of her head, and down along her sides. "Won't you? Yes you will. You'll be such a handful, yes you will," She cooed, and flicked an ear as Alyx began to whine and put up a fuss. She assumed she'd simmer down in a moment, so she simply let her be- let the kid cry it out, so to speak- while she fussed over Primrose. "You're going to be a perfect angel though, won't you?" he asked him. For some reason, she'd already decided that her daughters would likely be the troublemakers and that her son- who she thought was the spitting image of herself in the dim light of the den- would be, for some reason, more mild in temperment. At least at the moment, it seemed to be so, as Alyx continued to bawl. But Niamh had perfected- at least to some extent- her selective hearing, and tuned the child's pleas out as she could see that there was nothing really harming Alyx. "Yes, Momma's little sweet blondie boy," She said, giving Primrose another moment of attention.

Puh-lease, an older Alyx might've scoffed, complete with an exaggerated eyeroll. Bronco couldn't get a girlfriend if he fished her out of a lake. Whereas she, Alyx the extraordinary, would be just crawling in adoring boys if only there were some adoring boys around to... well, adore her. A few unrelated ones for good measure, though she wouldn't say no to being the apple of her brother's eye, or her cousins', for that matter.

At least she could promise hell. She was already a bit of a handful, demanding attention whenever she wanted and crawling away at random only to get cold and fuss more. Once her legs were sturdy enough to carry her, there likely wouldn't be a single corner of the Copse free from her influence... and oh, yes, she would have influence if she had anything to say about it.

Almost as if in agreement to this wish, she began to kick her little paws out and shriek louder, fully expecting that this tantrum would get her exactly what she wanted.

In ignoring Alyx, Niamh went against every single one of her typical helicopter mom instincts while she soothed her son. It seemed as though no matter how gently she treated him, and how sweetly she spoke to him, though, that his reaction to everything was a soft, but heartbreaking cry. The older he got, she knew, the louder he'd get. Take Alyx, for example, who had begun to really exercise her lungs. She'd been told that sometimes, when a puppy had nothing that it could want for, it was best to simply let them scream it out. She thought someone had told her that, to stop her from being so protective and paranoid about her kids. But the girl's voice grated on her nerves and eventually, she gritted her teeth, and left her sensitive little son alone and turned her attention to Alyx again. 

"Fuss-pot," She scolded lovingly, admiringly watching her daughter kick and flail. She was in no pain, but...If Niamh ever awoke and found herself suddenly unable to run, she would've screamed and flailed too. "You keep workin' on them legs. That'll make you nap better this afternoon," She said, but she did seek to soothe the child and help to cease her screaming and wailing by comforting her once again with gentle nudges and soothing kisses.

Joke's on you, mama. Alyx was like so many troublesome infants before her—any little lick of attention would only reinforce the behaviour. Alyx would prove particularly difficult because of this trait, for even negative attention was still attention worth receiving as far as she was concerned. A right little princess was she, in all but title, though that wouldn't stop Alyx from claiming she was royalty.

Niamh got her wish: her legs continued to kick and flail even when she received the attention she was seeking, if only because exercising her limbs that way felt good and right. Niamh was right that it would make her nap better, but it would also ensure that Alyx was on her feet at a ripe early age. Instinct told her to keep on movin' and getting stronger, so move she did!

When it didn't seem like her touches were helping the situation, as Alyx continued to kick and flail, she snorted, gave her child a friendly nudge, and then allowed her space to do so- while she sought to keep the other two settled down. She moved slightly away from the child- just close enough so that Alyx would find her fur and warmth within a moment, once she gave up on her flying turtle routine, and scooched a bit closer to Quetzal and Primrose so that she could bring them closer and at least try with the ones who weren't kicking at her. 

"Aaaaand they're off!" Niamh said softly, casting a gaze to Alyx as she wormed and moved. "Looks like it's Mama's Liddle Wolverine moving along the inside and making her way to the front of the pack! What a strong start!" She said, as though narrating a horse race.

The nice thing about exercise was that even for fully grown wolves, it was tiring. For a tiny tyke like Alyx, it was positively exhausting. Her midair galloping didn't last nearly as long as it felt like it did, maybe thirty seconds at best, during which Niamh narrated the imaginary race that was also probably occurring inside Alyx's little brain. Except it was less of a race and more of a pop star dancing competition, but same difference, really.

A huge yawn spliced her itty bitty mouth as her legs began to slow to a crawl. Within seconds she'd already dozed off, limbs still halfway suspended, only to drift into the down of her belly fur with a twitch here and there as dreamland carried her fully into that realm of dance offs.

"And as they near the first bend in the border patrol," Because naturally, Niamh had no concept of what a horse racing track was like, so she imagined instead wolves racing around the pack's borders, "It's Momma's Little Wolverine! Followed by..." Well...Which twin was which? "Dad's Littler Wolverine," She said, the enthusiasm dropping from her voice when she realized she wasn't really good at making up race details on the spot. "But a blitz from the pack of the pack- it's Blonde Baby Boy challenging for the lead!" She said, noticing now that Alyx had finally begun to settle. 

"And as they race down the very last little bit before the finish line..." She said, tucling a now very drowsy Alex gently, tightly, lovingly against her side with her brother and sister. "In swoops the Golden Momma Eagle who picks them all up, an' carries them all off to dreamland in her nesty nest." She chuckled. Maia probably would have shaken her head to hear exactly how off course her racing track story had gone. Regardless- it'd done the job. All three children were nestled against her side, ready to sleep- so she finally set her head down to join them in slumberland.