Broken Boulder whole damn thing's covered in dirt

The pups had had their two weeks. Queenie had sat in silence, never rarely ever complaining, but now that their trial had expired, she wholeheartedly planned to cancel their subscription. The quicker that she could get them off of her teats, the faster she'd be back at those borders; if Malachi was weaned, then it would be much easier to get him out there, too. 

Coming back from the cache with a pleasantly full belly, Queenie excitedly plopped down just outside of the den so that only her front half was available to the pups. J'ai une surprise, mes petits, she cooed, already trying her hardest to bring her meal back up. 

It took a few minutes of muscle contractions and determination, but eventually, a small pile of puppy-sized vomit made its way into the den, available to @Solomon, @Mali, and @Brilliance.

at two weeks old there is still not much to the quiet child. occasionally she tussles with her siblings, finding them to be incovenient, if warm, obstacles in her path. she likes to sit and watch them stumble about, their loud personalities a stark contrast to her tendencies towards resigned acceptance.

until this particular tribulation. 

solomon had stumbled up from her perch out of her siblings' way, ready for a nice, refreshing drink from mama. instead she's presented with a strange-smelling pile of meat, a concept she is unfamiliar with. baby blue eyes blink and then narrow. nn! nnmrrr! comes the babyish protest, still too little to make much in the way of words, but the intent is clear -- you will not fool me with this false not-milk! the stygian child lifts herself on wobbly-toddler legs and takes off, making a beeline straight through the unwanted meat meal for the sweet bliss of mama's teat.

being left inside the den with the other two puppies is less than ideal. all she has is stupid solomon and mouthy mali and brilliant brilliance clearly has Standards. she scurries away from both of them and plops on the ground, waiting. her limbs are barely mobile and the struggle is real as she manages to get away, lowering her tiny head on the ground and closing her baby blues.
 
the sound of mother’s voice, however, causes her little head to lift; she’s barely had her ears opened but the words are welcomed and she struggles to her feet on her tiny, fat legs. walking isn’t the easiest thing to do so she stammers each step until she nears the mouth of the den, looking up the slight incline to the outside world. a tiny nose flares for the scent, solomon already working her legs upward and out the den. with a quiet hmph, brilliance falls back on her butt and waits to see what all the fuss is about.

Mali probably wasn't going to be the first at anything other than making noise.  Uncoordinated, still a bit blurry-eyed... If Queenie was expecting the little boy to be ahead of the curve, he'd probably be best at being disappointing.  He definitely wasn't on track to have the fastest weaning possible, still not much in the way of teeth inside his stubby puppy maw.

But hey, mom was back!  He started to get up, yawning.  He could totally toddle on over and have some food and maybe pounce on her tail and other such exciting things!  Or could if she'd like.. finish coming into the den, y'know?  He waited out of the way.  And then Queenie barfed stuff all over.  Oh no, mom was sick?!  Messes totally needed to be cleaned up, right?  Or at least he was pretty sure that's what happened if one of them got sick.  He better stay out of the way -- it didn't smell particularly appetizing at this point in his life, maybe give him another week or three.  And so, Mali took a half step backwards, tripped on his own paws, and fell over.

Poor children.

Well. Things certainly weren't going as planned. That didn't dissuade Queenie, though; she was determined to get what she wanted. As Solomon raced toward her side, she lifted herself into a crouched position and snapped at the tiny girl, warning her to stay in her place. The other two, Brilliance and Malachi, seemed completely indifferent to their surroundings (great traits, Dad). Mangez, she growled, eyes moving around the den to each of their faces. Whether they liked it or not, their milk days were coming to an end.

denied -- by teeth -- the girl falls back with a frightened squeak, creeping back toward her siblings, towards safety. she doesn't understand -- mama has been a source of security -- this betrayal cannot be yet processed by her still developing mind. she does not cry, no, she worms herself behind her siblings, out of sight, confused and tired.

she isn’t allowed to eat. her face scrunches up at her mother, ears twitching upon her head when she hears the growl. the word means nothing to her. her ears only fully opened yesterday! most sounds are still muffles and the concept of language is lost to the poor child. brilliance shuffles to her feet and takes several steps away from queenie, glancing around at the other hazy figures in the den. tiny, magenta tongue slips over her muzzle, anxiously waited until she’s allowed to finally eat.

It took him a bit to drag himself back to his feet, and by then Queenie had growled at them and tried again to get them to try this potential new source of a meal.  It probably wasn't the intended effect, but instead of even getting anywhere near what was supposed to be food, he also retreated from her expression.  Stay away from the mom-barf entirely then, right?  Okay, okay.  He scooted back away from the tunnel entrance even more, sticking to the wall, though probably not as far back as Solomon.  He could wait until the mess got cleaned up, right?