Little Goat Mountain I never trust a narcissist

For mama and/or sibs! @Mira, @Athamas, @Athalia, @Amneris

The first days of opened eyes were full of wonder and intrigue. There was much to see, and yet it felt like there was so little time to see it all. Before, there had been only sounds and smells. Some points of which it was all too much, though he'd grown accustomed. But now with sight added to the mix, it was as if he'd already become a man in the place of a child. The knowledge he possessed through these senses brought the world to its knees in his very (brand new) eyes. Or, more-so, everything within this meek den, as he'd yet to venture beyond.
On this particular day, Ashkova felt like being adventurous. Wriggling his way past his littermates, the boy heaved his childishly pudgy weight toward the archway leading out. Immediately, a waft of new scents flooded through his nostrils. In nearly stunned him, truth be told. But there was nothing about it to deter him from going onward. And so, he did. 
All but forgetting those he was leaving behind, the boy continued to writhe, half walking and half dragging himself, as he'd yet to find full balance within his figurement. Grass crinkled beneath his paws. Miniature stones jabbed at his pawpads. Dust flew with every scraping movement against the earth. There was no surprise of his thoughts, for his expression said it all. Contorted upon his visage, a plain, prideful grin. No longer was he hidden within a den, but rather exposed to this new world that he'd been brought within. From a womb, to here. And he didn't plan on going back. Ever.

Laughter echoed off the mountainsides as the successful hunter boasted over his kill. A golden eagle had put the rams into a chase, and Ksura had seen them bounding effortlessly along the sheer cliffs in his direction. The eagle had its sights set on a small one, this year's lam he suspected, but Ksura eyed the ram who had his eyes set on the ledge. Ksura, hidden by a swatch of goldenrods, waited until the ram leapt for the edge- before he sprang out and sent it scuttling backwards for just a moment before it fell back. 

Down and down, over and over again it tumbled, and Ksura picked his way down until he found the ram. Overhead, the eagle screamed victorious, and the wolf laughed below. 

Dragging the carcass was the only real cost of energy and his ego had bloated as much as his slain prey. The long, thick horns curled behind each ear, arcing back to the ram's jaw. Bighorn sheep came with their own handles built-in. 

He was out of breath by the time he dragged the body back to Mira's densite, but was in top spirits nonetheless. He was about to call her out of the den when he spotted a wide, gummy grin, and two true-blue eyes. It was the one with the freckles, a little boy he thought. "Well there, Little Ostrega," He said. "What d'you make of it all?" He said, nearly breathless as he saw down alongside the ram's body.

the children had opened their eyes, and each held a puppy blue until time would tell their true colors. mira was fond of the look; it reminded her of her mother, with her bold ocean-colored gaze and dark fur. they were mini-hydras for now.

she was ever-watchful whenever ksura was out, and rested primarily when her aid was nearby and she had the peace to catch a couple winks of sleep. today the young man had gone to hunt while mira watched the children silently, observing as ashkova- the name she had given to the boy with freckles- began to crawl towards the den's edge. mira would let him go for a couple moments, and though she had began to prepare herself to get onto her feet to go fetch him once he was a couple paces outside, she didn't end up needing to.

ksura's voice, along with the scent of fresh food, greeted mira and her tiny son. little ostrega, her companion called the small boy, and mira nearly smiled, eyes softening slightly. 

i can already tell he will have a wild heart... don't let him get past you. mira predicted of her son. children's behavior had to be some sign of their base personality, she thought. some seeked to explore, like she figured ashkova might. in her youth, mira had been fascinated with dominating her siblings in playfights as much as she could manage. she didn't always win but damn well tried. 

she preferred that her children did not long for the outside too much, though- they were meant to stay by her side. if longing to be scouts, she would want to ensure they'd be scouting for the ostregas.

have you brought us ram today? mira called, unable to see him quite from her position in the den at the moment, but able to scent the kill on the air. her children were ready to eat chewed, spat-up meat now alongside her milk. so far ksura was doing an excellent job tending to her, her family, and himself. she had to admit (only in thought) that she quite liked having him around. a personal assistant was pretty useful after all, and his company wasn't half-bad.

A voice. That of a man. 
Ashkova inched closer, but not too close. Only enough so to get a good whiff of them. Their scent had indeed lingered for many days. The child wondered then if perhaps this one was his father. But the thought was quickly put aside, as it was realized they shared no apparent similarities. 
As his mother soon approached, the man was all but forgotten. With an eager wiggle, he pressed himself against the brace of her leg, vying for her attention with small, hoarse yips. She had been to busy focusing on the man and the limp creature he'd brought, but Ashkova wanted her eyes to be on him instead.

He lowered his head to the boy could see his face. He wasn't sure how well the kids could even see at this point, but he was eager to make himself imprinted in their early memories. They would grow up, nurtured at least a tiny part by them, and he was keen to see them meet the success their mother had planned. He also had to admit, the kids were pretty cute. It wouldn't be long before they'd be able to play, too. 

Mira's voice caused his chin to lift, and he looks down at the freckled kid with a smile, chuckling as the child immediately began to scramble back toward her voice. "Wild heart maybe, but he loves his Mama," He noted, hearing the happy pay attention to me! whines coming from the den. He stepped forward and lowered his head, squinting into the dark when she asked about food. 

"Brought a nice big one, yeah," He replied, noticing that she had not drawn forward. The other children likely needed warmth, though he could already tell that wherever Mira went, the little freckled one would likely go too. "Wanna trade spots? Or you want me to rip off chunks an' bring 'em to you?" He said, his voice soft.

can be a cameo unless acknowledged! wanted this in her threadlog, enjoy this weird word vomit

Ostrega.
Athalia heard and now saw, and she knew that word, the one that came from the mouth of the beast. The smell of rot emanates through the den and stings her nostrils; in time it would be appealing, but for now, she needs only mothermilk, and the skin of her nose wrinkles in distaste.
Ostrega. Ostrega. Ostrega.
What does it mean? And more importantly, what was it to her and her siblings?
Blistering baby blues look up in search of mother. Weak is her grip on the ground as she heaves herself forward in a haze before she, then, sneezes viscerally, slime running from nostrils down to lips, and—

BARK

Although this sound that came from her was more akin to an ancient throaty pharaoh's curse. An ugly sound, thick with mucus that hangs heavy in the back of her throat.
Promptly, she then shuffles away from the shadows. She likes the cold.

ashkova let his curiosity rule for a moment, but then the hunter-man was forgotten and he scurried back to mira, yapping for her attention and leaning himself against her leg. she smiled as ksura commented that the boy loved her. she hoped that it would remain this easy to keep the children at her side, and away from wandering far, although figured it would get harder with time. 

the mother leaned down, lapping at the silvery forehead of her son between his ears. ashkova, what a sweet boy you are, she praised with a happy, gentle voice at his contact. even if they might not understand language yet, she had decided that affirmation of any sort would be good to reward nearness to and adoration towards mira. 

ksura came into her vision, squinting into the shadow of the den. he was a good helper, offering to bring the food or switch places. she didn't want to seperate from the children too much at this age, and two were presumably still resting near her, so she answered, bring me chunks, if you can. some for her, some to chew for the children to hopefully familiarize them with meat and semi-solid foods. of course, anything else would be for ksura- and though mira had greed, and perhaps some wrath, she was no glutton. she did not need more than her fill, and needed her hunting-servant to be strong and healthy alongside her. 

it was then that a sneeze alerted her, followed by a small, scratchy attempt at a bark. she blinked, yellow gaze flicking to her daughter, whose nose was now coated with a layer of mucus- amusing, though mira mostly worried for the girl's health, and would try to lean forward to grab her by the ruff if she was within reach, lifting her to sit in-between her paws. she needed these kids to stay healthy. she'd groom her daughter carefully, lapping at her nose and muzzle too, trying to warm her up.

From his mother, only rumbles. Words, if they were, he couldn't make them out just yet. But to see the delight in her face and the warmth of her gaze, he knew that she was pleased, and that satisfied him.
But when the grueling sounds of his littermate drum within his ear, the attention upon his mother is lost. They both look upon his sister. And when she is set between their mothers feet, Ashkova wastes not another moment to waddle close and initiate the first of many tussles. 
For now, only a playfight. But the fiery urge within him to tear away skin and drain away blood tells him that such an act will grow to be more someday in the future.

Rancid mouthfeel is now warm against her head and face as strong shadowy arms wrap around her. Athalia does not like this.
Her eyes bug wide as saucers, the white sclera peeling, before her lip curls in a hideous display of laughably gummy mouth; teeth only just starting to erupt. Go away says her warning; stop staring at me—
Brother descends upon her with the wrath of a thousand firelight suns, or at least that is how it felt to her. He tumbles messily in search of a direly unwanted tussle, and yet little Athalia does not defend herself, does not shove, kick, bite; she merely freezes. Cold as stone, images of little red sparks warping into her mind's eye. Brother strikes. Brother wrestles. Was this normal?
Sniffling, she then rolls onto her side like an opossum, legs stuck out in front of her. Too much, too much happening! Maybe this will get the clamoring to stop; make the suffocating warmth of body heat and trickle of saliva that now covers her face go away.

His ears flicked forward as one of the kids spoke out, loudly. He wasn't sure if she'd coughed, or if she was trying to get attention, and he tilted his head to the side. Regardless- it probably wasn't his problem and Mira didn't seem too concerned. In the darkness, he could see her move to cradle the girl, but having been given the request of bringing in meat in pieces, he turned and left her to deal with the crawling, mewling children and began to tear through the ram's coat, and into the meat beneath it. 

For Mira, he pulled muscle from the bone, fatty tissue and all, so she could eat without thought. Always careful with his footing, so as to be mindful of the squirming children, he brought in chunks of meat, gingerly placing them close enough for her to grab, nosing it forward so she might not find him edging too close to her children. 

He couldn't help but look with stolen glances at the two who squirmed and played. Well, really only one of them moved very much- the other had flopped over onto her side, perhaps in a dismissive move. He chuckled, and fell back to the entrance of the den, where he lay down, allowing Mira some time to eat what he'd brought. He wanted to watch the kids play, but felt slightly unwelcome; he would lay at the entrance with an ear flicked in their direction, smiling faintly to himself at every hint of sound they made.

athalia seems to writhe uncomfortably in her mother’s grasp, lip curling as she was bathed. she was like her mother in this way, mira thought- the larger shadow despised the feeling of being wet, and wondered if this trait was being reflected in her daughter. 

the son was attention-seeking, moving towards the daughter once he’d lost his mother’s gaze. ashkova pushed against athalia with the beginnings of a tiny tussle, and mira leaned back to watch them, quitting her attempt at washing her daughter, and lips curling faintly into a smile as their fearsome side was shown. someday, they would be separated from battling, but for now her eyes gleamed at the chance to see who would be a born victor. as long as they always understood that they were family, regardless of blood spilled in practice.

but the ostrega-mother frowned slightly when athalia rolls over. she submits without so much as a fight, legs stuck out stiffly in front of her. was this all her daughter had to offer? as ksura comes closer, dropping off chunks of meat, mira gives him an appreciative nod before turning back to her children. she nudges at athalia’s side gently with her snout. get up. 

she leaned back, taking a chunk to chew it into soft food to ease her children into their meat-eating diets, though it would be saved for after their tussle. though mira tended to be selfish, with children at her side she would save her own meal for last. she placed the softened pieces beside her elbow, and glanced up at ksura. briefly, she considered telling him to be sure that he eats too- she needed him strong, after all- but she decides not to. she was not his mother; he would eat if he was hungry. her eyes flickered back to the kids.