Swiftcurrent Creek truly a hot mom, other moms are doing their squats wrong

the fourth day of life, aka the “thanks for not dying” milestone, had come to pass and mother’s supply of savory, antibody-rich colostrum had turned into real milk. Tier was gaining weight nicely, but had slowed considerably on gorging herself and was dead to the world more often than anything else. the neonatal stage of puppyhood entailed a lot of sleeping, evidently, but our little potato would start sprouting in the blink of an eye.

she was visibly plumper already, a full smidge more mobile—but generally she only made the effort it took to transfer herself from one nipple to another. her cranial topography still had a crater from that little bungie-jump stunt gone wrong, but the likeness she bore to martians would—god willing—sort itself out in time. 

she decided rather quickly that she didn’t like it when the mothership wasn’t in orbit. unable to regulate her own body temperature yet, and without a pile of sibs to keep her warm in the absence of @Wylla at her side, great distress was elicited if she sensed seclusion. even if it was only because mother had shifted from her immediate proximity and thereby denied her trouble-free access to the fuel dispensers. 

her body hicc'd with every demanding squeal that pealed from her lips.

The squirrel he carried — a sow fat with kits — was destined for one of the pack's caches and it was likely his paws would not have stilled if the pup, tucked in the confines of its natal den, had not squealed as he passed by. For a long moment he looked ahead, an alert ear turned toward the den but his attention still clearly forward on the task he had set for himself.

Decision made, the black wolf stepped nearer the chamber and lowered his nose to sniff at the scents that stole from it. There was learned caution in his method; he held back and leaned forward. In doing so, he kept the sensitive leather of his snout back from the entrance so far as he could while still drawing its air and kept his feet at the ready. His ears, ever alert, bore some curiosity and interest in their carry.

3am phone post never doin that bullshit again

she was least of all prepared for house guests, milk lit and midmost of a tremendous tantrum, but the little junebug didn’t know she was creating such a rumpus on account of the “deaf as a post” thing.

her fussing commanded a doting touch, plus her favorite areola (some kids have security blankets, Tiercel had a security tit). her poor mother had concieved The cluster-feeding virtuoso, and there were no brakes on this trai—

wait a minute. subtle, heavy-footed vibrations in the soil reverberated against her belly. intuition bidding her not to become a part of Yogi bear’s pic-a-nic basket caused her body to brace up, rendering her insantly still and quiet.

didn’t last too long. five seconds tops. despite all effort—better yet, against instinct’s diligent behest, a teensy tremelo mewl, one meant to solicit mother’s nearness, broke the illusion to whatever loomed outside that the den wasn’t a stocked pantry.

gg. ya blew it, bear vittles.

No aggression came to meet him. The black wolf crept closer, tugged as if by a string to duck his head inside the yawning hole and peer inside. There was the mother, protective but tolerant of her guest, and a single dark haired pup. His attention fell gently on her, though he was wary of the dam and monitored her from the corner of his eye.

Jagwyr let the squirrel roll out from his jaws, then he shoved his nose under its soft tender belly and tumbled it torward the pair. It was still warm. Only a bit of blood darkened its gray fur where his fangs had pierced its ribs, but it was otherwise a clean kill. The pup, he knew, was too young to eat it, but he settled to his belly to observe any reaction she might have.

Only his forequarters and head were within the den; beyond his exposed haunches, his tail swished gently in the dirt.

she stiffened at the leadenfooted vibrations advancing on their hovel, and the ensuing sensation of being scrutinized by the unfamiliar aura proliferating their homestead.  

but the minute something bushy tumbled towards her, Tiercel was drawn to the novelty it presented. yet to collect all five senses in her inventory, she couldn't do much apart from bunt her head against the squirrel's hirsute tail as it rolled towards her face. it was warm, but otherwise nondescript and uninteractive, so she left it for The Mothership to deal with.

deepening the furrow in her brow-rolls, she blundered on her belly and puled at the visitor hovering near their entryway, the pink of her tongue rolling out with a spasmodic yawn.

though to be fair it did look like she was Free Willy expecting fish to be deposited before any feats of awe would be performed. you think i can't do baller stunts? how'd'ya think this dent got there? by doing baller stunts, that's how. 

She was yet too young to even take much interest in the squirrel. It mattered not. The game was meant to be eaten by the mother and to nourish her daughter through her. He had reasoned that had he buried it in a cache, it would have found its way here anyway.

The pup's cry caused his mouth to tighten. He glanced at the mother, then slowly shifted forward a bit and extended a broad paw. The black wolf let the white tips of his toes graze the child's small muzzle as he laid his equally white chin onto the dirt.

the sensation of having her face brushed introduced a recoiling affect from the girl. it was unexpected and startled her, but she was quick to relax again and let her cheek rest against the claws that dwarfed her in size.

like a cat gravitating to a ray of sunlight, she was attracted to the warmth this new planet provided and sought to enter its orbit. shuffling forward with a hitching motion not unlike that of a fat, blind seal trying to navigate across a beach, Tiercel would stay on her course and inevitably collide with the nose waiting to meet her at her destination.

He was an alert wolf by nature, but the world shrank around him as he focused on the small pup that leaned against his blunt nails. It had been a long time since he had been in the company of a newborn. But his thoughts on that and his feelings were well hidden.

Jagwyr remained still as she made her way toward him on limbs that were not quite ready to walk. Not until she bumped into his snout did he move at all, canting his muzzle to sniff at her and brush his nose across her soft baby furs. It was a short lived encounter; he gingerly nudged her back toward her awaiting mother, and then calmly but swiftly reversed out of the den after a nod of farewell to Wylla.

His departure perhaps spoke more than his unrevealing face did.

their bumper cars kissed but he just wasn't ready for it. she felt a cold slip of air lance her nose, then recognized a sense of being manhandled and pushed back into a realm of warmth. the fugitive let out a cry of dispute but it was brief and she was quick to settle back into the routine of sleeping and suckling without any memory of the inconsequential encounter lasting in her memory.