Hoshor Plains shots and squats

Anyone's welcome! Tagged folks: please correct me if any of my assumptions are incorrect. :)

Her vision would be fuzzy for a while yet, though now that her eyes were properly open, little Regipre was spunkier than ever. She still slept most of the time, though during her waking hours, she bustled about the den like a little busybody. She became familiar with the sights of @Tomahawk, @Sart and @Papref. She caught the occasional glimpse of @Devil and even one or two of @Rakharo. She didn't know it yet but he was master of not only herself and her brother and sister, but also her parents as well.

Though she was full of beans, Regipre had not yet dared to attempt escape from the whelping den. Presently, she hovered near its mouth, back perhaps a foot and a half. She sat up halfway, weaving slightly; balance was still in development. Her blue eyes—much too large for her fine-boned face—stared at the curtain of water obscuring the doorway as a heavy summer rain pounded the plains. Her wispy little tail tapped and her head bobbed, almost as if Regipre was hypnotized.

She'd found one of the best ways to avoid her sister's spunky disposition was to curl up into a ball and play like she did not exist. Paw over her nose, one bright blue eye watched the haze that was her sister bounce around in this that or the other direction. She didn't quite understand it. This movement. The blurs and shadows were so strange to her still. Simple things, she understood. Warm and cold. She liked the warmth. She liked curling up with her siblings and sleeping. Those things were good.

The moving stopped. Somewhat. Curious now, she peeled her paw back from her nose and shifted her small body in effort to stand. Her legs were wobbly. Her coordination still had plenty of room for development. One attempt and she stumbled forward. Another attempt and she fell back. Her progress was negated and she took to flopping instead, spinning and flailing her body as she crept towards this cold and with it discovered something new.

Wet. She moved too far. Hard rain splattered on her head as she yelped into the dreary void and regained enough grace to flop back into safety of their den. A wet paw drew upward as she rolled upon her back and unintentionally thwopped at her frozen sister's nose. Wet was bad. Wet hurt.

He was just outside the den entrance, guarding as he had been now for some time. It was not his preference to sleep exposed to the elements like this, but his task kept him rooted here when he was not hunting, and he found that here he was unlikely to be pestered by the wolves. He was not content however, nor would he be until he finished what he had come to do. It would be some time yet before that could be accomplished, and he flicked his tail in annoyance as he thought on it.

His attention was broken when his ear swivelled to the faint sounds of coyote pups stirring in the den. He shuffled closer, to peer down into the entrance, where his eyes met two of his kin. He watched them quietly.

Sart broke the spell by wandering into her visual field. Regipre's floppy ears fanned backward almost indignantly as she watched her sister stumble toward the strange gray curtain. The instant she made contact, she tumbled backward, uttering a yelp that hurt Regipre's eardrums even if she could not hear it outright. Her jaws parted in a wail of complaint when Sart rolled toward her and clouted her square on the nose. The eldest yelped in surprise and reproachfully nipped at her litter mate.

Then a head emerged through the shifting rainwater drapes and Regipre yelped again, once more startled. She pressed herself to the den floor, then slowly rose again when she recognized the pointy, pale face of her father. Of course, she didn't know he was her father, yet she recognized him. Her tail gave a tentative flick, though it did not wag, nor did the youngster smile or otherwise show any joy about Devil's presence. She just stared up at him, curious but stoic.

Wet and tumbly, the overwhelming combination of emotions was further perpetuated by a nip from her sibling. She yelped again. The sound escaped from her mouth before she could comprehend why she'd made it save to alarm whoever might be near that she was not fond of the rain nor the interaction. And possibly that she was whiny. Also possibly complain-y. Or jumpy. Or whatever type of personality she'd eventually grow into.

She flipped, finding her stomach as she peered back into the rain. A face emerged from the curtain of water. The concept of object permanence was nothing she could currently grasp, so when fuzzy shape emerged in an unintentional form of peekaboo, she wailed again as she jumped back into her sister's form once more. Cuddling. Seeking warmth. Seeking comfort in something she knew if only from competing for the excess amount of resources they now shared given half their number had been exterminated.

Somewhere in there, her undeveloped mind was sorting together the early concept of fear.

His first daughter regarded him calmly, curious despite the evident stoicism on her face. He found humor in this, and it drew the corner of his mouth into a faint smile. Perhaps she had inherited his capacity for a blank expression. It had served him well, and would serve her well if she did not spend her life here. If he could...

The second one noticed him then, and leaped back with a wail, bundling up against her sister. Perhaps most would have frowned at this, had hoped for their offspring to have a stronger backbone, more boldness, but he thought differently. He was a coyote, and he liked what he saw. What began as fear could be tempered into calculated caution, and that was one of the cornerstones of his species' survival strategy.

He did not move. He remained as he was, watching, assessing.

When Sart pressed closed against her, Regipre's silky little ears drew back again. As the pressure mounted, her lip curled and she gave the fearful pup another nip, then extricated herself from her sister's embrace. She slunk sideways along the den's inner wall, beady blue eyes flicking from Sart to Devil still lingering in the den's mouth. She chose a spot where she could keep an eye on both of them at once, then settled almost primly, feet tucked and tail curled around her tawny bottom. Her behavior could be considered catlike.

After shooting her cowardly a sister a disparaging look and complementing it with a snort, her gaze shifted to settle on her father's face. She stared at him openly, eyes slightly narrowed, wondering if he would do anything or just stand there. She wasn't afraid of him. In fact, she was thinking of moving toward him and giving him a nip of his own, though an instinctual sense of discretion held her back. Unlike her mother and siblings, this male was largely unknown and might prove dangerous.

Another nip and her sister was gone. The emptiness of cold air that enveloped her then drowned her with a sense of loneliness that caused her big blue eyes to widen as she half-sat, half-lay rooted to the spot. Where did the warm go? Could it come back? Could she find it again? Where had she come from? Where could she go?

The strength within her vanished as the limb that supported her collapsed. She fell, laying on her belly with all four limbs spread eagle beneath her as her chin tapped against the ground. Helpless. Lost. Where were nice things? Did they disappear forever? How long was forever? Would anything find her again?

She didn't understand. She didn't get it. She couldn't help herself. From her, a high-pitched whine fled her lips at an ungodly decibel. It persisted. It didn't stop.

His expression was unchanging as he watched his calmer daughter nip the fearful one, making it apparent that she did not care for the behavior before she retreated further into the den. She placed herself to watch them both, an action that he also saw as promising. Coyotes needed to be aware, to not be complacent, to not turn their backs on the goings on around them. He too, liked to find perches from which he could observe more efficiently.

His gaze moved from her to the pup that had now splayed itself on the den floor. It whined, and whined, and continued to do so. His ears slipped back against his head, partially shrouding some of the incessant noise. He drew back from the den entrance, seeking relief a short distance from it. His ears were keen and he could still hear her, but the pitch did not stab his ear drums from here.

Sart sank to the ground and began to keen, though Regipre only registered this very dimly, considering her ears were still not open. Mostly, she ignored her sister, continuing to stare down their father instead. But then he abruptly retreated, disappearing behind the gray, watery curtain again. This caused the pup to draw her head backward slightly, ears pinning uncertainly and blue eyes narrowing into questioning slivers.

He did not return, at least for several minutes, and Regipre grew bored of staring at the den's mouth. Her eyes zeroed in on her rag doll of a litter mate and she slunk over to her, stood there for a moment, then let out a long sigh. She dropped to her belly, then curled into a ball beside Sart, her face blank. She tucked her forelegs beneath her chest and dropped her chin to the floor, facing away from her sister, then slowly shut her eyes.

She cried. Her voice far louder and far more shrill than she could begin to comprehend, but a cry for help all the same. She could not compute the reason for her discomfort. She only knew that something was wrong, that something needed to change, and that someone somewhere was sure to help her discover what it was she needed to be soothed.

It felt like a lifetime of screaming before a presence wavered over her and then tucked down beside her. Her voice instantly ceased, falling silent at the warm presence of her sibling as Sart curled closer. There. That was better. She gave her sister a quick lick before nestling in and pressing her eyes closed.

Minutes passed, and still the shrieking was unremitting. For a moment he considered intervening, but short of them being attacked it was their mother's business to tend to their fussing, not his. Fortunately, the wailing stopped. He heard nothing more from the den, not even the soft shuffle of dirt beneath tiny paws. Her surmised that they fell asleep, and after resting himself, he rose to go hunting.