Hideaway Strath lightly fried fish fillets

@Lotte @Arturo @Ceallach @Roarke @Eirlys @Chusi, maybe @Dagfinn if he's still around. :) 

Mallaidh’s routine is not often interrupted and when it is, it’s usually by the cries of one of her siblings. The bigger forms come and go and she’s gotten used to the disruption as it happens a few times a day. She cries less as she slips into a realm of contentment she realizes as something new:  boredom. She’s been awake for several minutes before she realizes something is different. Having become complacent blinded her to the fact she could see. Well, not really; there’s light.  The lids of her right eye are no longer fused as the day is much brighter. It has been a gradual grow (not that she realizes it) as her eye slowly opened over a day or more until finally they’d opened for one, milky blue eye. Her left has already begun but the separation does not allow any light through yet and it won’t be for another day until it opens too.

Sirius was wandering where he was not supposed to be. In the short-sightedness of youth, he could not remember very well whether or not Hemlock had assigned limits to the places he was allowed to wander, but he knew he was far from her. This alone made the boy uncomfortable. He'd lost his mother (and the rest of his family, who were slightly less clear in his mind), and the ordeal had left him with a deep emotional wound. The lack of familiar faces around him was making him nervous, and the more he wandered, the more agitated he became.

Soon enough, though, he saw and heard and smelled signs of his packmates. Sirius made a beeline for the King Sequoia, not knowing that he was intruding on protected grounds. The young boy scampered into the safety of the den without much thought, failing to announce himself or even offer a huff of greeting before he barreled into @Lotte's side.

He blinked owlishly at the woman - familiar, he thought - before catching sight of the dark bundle of fur nearby.

"Bubby!" he exclaimed, popping to his paws and starting toward the young girl. To do what was anyone's guess.

Breezing through Lotte posts. I am sorry for the lackluster quality.

“Mallaidh, Mallaidh,” Lotte crooned in a low singsong, transfixed by the little pirate’s misty blue globe. She kept her voice soft and soothing, not wanting to overwhelm the firebrand’s senses, but her tail began a heavy thump-thump-thumping she couldn’t still. @Arturo had been the first one to see Ceallach’s eyes when they opened, so it only seemed right that Lotte was first to witness her miniature copy’s widening new world. The symmetry of her litter pleased and amused her: Mallaidh was so vividly her daughter and Ceallach was so vividly Arturo’s son, and in between were the two who would reflect the heritage from whence they’d come. It was still anybody’s guess whether Roarke and Eirlys would take after Boadicea or the Enok wolves who bore the title Muodonmuuttaja. Very gently, Lotte smoothed her tongue along the girl’s spine, turning her head to call for her husband to witness the marvel: “Artu — oof!”

The solid thump of Sirius’ heather gray form catapulting into Lotte’s exposed abdomen wrung an immediate reaction from the smoke-and-shadow bitch. In one fluid movement, she was up and snarling silently, her argent eyes slamming into the little body the way he’d slammed into her. Fortunately, he seemed preoccupied by her daughter — which didn’t altogether please her either — and had forgiven her for her territorial display. Teetering dangerously between killing the boy where he stood and allowing him to stay and play, Lotte ultimately decided on the latter. She lay back down, tucking herself closer to her girl and gathering Roarke, Eirlys, and Ceallach protectively to her as well. He must miss his family, Banríon mused. “She is Mallaidh,” she told him gently, her voice still thick with an unshed growl.

Lotte slid out one dark foreleg, parallel to Mallaidh, ready at any moment to sweep her daughter out of harm’s way. Her silver eyes were piercing and intense despite the soothing way she spoke. “They are too young to play with you, Sirius,” she told him, doubting he could understand her in full, “but someday they will be your friends.”

Too much happens at once and her inability to process any of it in a timely manner is obvious. Her limbs stiffen and she opens her mouth to cry at the sudden burst of movement. Even her new eyesight doesn’t aid her struggles, offering nothing more than light and their contrast. She can’t distinguish between the two bodies, either, until her mother has settled close and the presence of the boy is there in a lumpy shadow of her vision but she knows not to take her attention away. Something tells her he shouldn’t be there but her detective skills are set aside as she leans back against the closest part of her mother she can find.

Eirlys’ eyes should have opened, but they haven’t BECAUSE LET’S FACE IT KJ SUCKS AT POTATO STAGE — and neither have her twin’s. There is a feeling of unrest in the air that intensifies when Lotte gathers her close, and she squeaks feebly in protest as she begins worming her way toward the dumpling that she will one day be able to identify by name. She noses her way to Mallaidh’s side, melting into her charcoal-colored sister little by little, and snuffles fitfully as she presses her nose against her sister’s nape.

Sirius was young, but he hadn’t missed the murderous expression on Lotte’s face or the growl that backed her timbre. When he didn’t immediately back away, the young mother made it plain that he ought to, flashing her fangs with a cutting rumble. She didn’t know if what he had was contagious or not, and Eirlys was literally such a delicate flower anyway that if he breathed the wrong way, she’d probably drop dead or something. The boy’s nervousness returned, and with it came the acrid scent of urine. Lotte hadn’t meant to do that, and she was immediately contrite. Would @Hemlock be angry with her? Her coal-capped ears fanned back against her head as she pulled her girls closer to her like a victorious gambler sweeping a mountain of chips protectively into the crook of her arm. “Hush, wee bears…” she crooned to them, hoping the dark closeness would comfort her firstborn. “Mallaidh, my girl, never and never, riding far and near in the land of the hearthstone tales…” She hummed a few bars of the song she’d chosen for the smoky little female, nosing and licking with slow gentleness at each eggshell-fragile crown.

Sirius needed attention, too, and Lotte readily gave it to him. “Siri,” she crooned gently, feeling bad for the confusion that swam within his sad baby blues. “Let’s play a game — do you want to play a game? Or would you like a story? I can tell you some stories about your mama, if you like.”

Mallaidh’s single eye widens when she hears the voice coming from her mother. Her features are not defined more than being a blob before her, temporarily forgetting the others around her. The words are directed at her and she finds comfort in them as she scoots as close as she can, burying herself in the depths of her thick fur, and finding it easy to drift between sleep and consciousness without much complain.