Sun Mote Copse the x-files

@Waawaashkeshi

hours pass between his birth and his first waking to the world. the small cub is still blind and deaf, his head bobbing as he uses the only senses he currently has: touch, taste, smell. the latter is faint at best, so he relies mostly on touch and taste to navigate and explore his world. his toes touch the earth below him, and he learns of dirt. his nose breathes in the muddled scents around him: his mother and siblings. for better or worse, their scents will be imprinted on him for life.
a tiny waggling of a tail propels appears to propel him forward, and he shows interest in his mother's milk for the second time today. a tiny whimper alerts his mother to his hunger, and his bobbing head searches for its intended target: her bosom. he has not gotten far from his meal since his last one, so it will not be too difficult to get there, but there are sleeping siblings in the way and his yet-to-be-developed legs are not very strong at this stage. they do, however, show great promise, and this is just one of the ways he will strengthen over the coming days and weeks.

Waawaashkeshi managed to sleep for a time after the birth, but had woken at the first cry not far into her rest. Now she had laid awake for hours, as attentive as she could manage in her sore state. She was glad that there was little demand for movement in the moment.

A whimper from her son alerts Waawaashkeshi to his movement, and she watches for a moment as he wriggles towards her. He has been the most active of the litter so far, a sight that makes her smile. She lets him work his way forward for the moment, in awe of such determination when he had only been born early that morning. Only when he begins to disturb sleeping sisters does she lift her son and place him next to her teat for easy access. She wonders what he will want to be when he grows older, A scout, a hunter? Maybe you will be my Birdwatcher, or tell my stories when I grow too old. She knows he can't hear her, not yet, but speaking to him is a comfort.

She was yet to name him, or the rest of the litter for that matter, but slowly such names were forming in her mind. Tibishkogijik. She hums, her tongue dragging over the small body. Do you like that name, Kogi? Tibishkogijik, 'looking into the sky'. She thinks it suits him.

the words his mother speaks fall on deaf ears as he continues to wriggle his way toward her. then, he is airborne, tiny toe beans grasping at nothing before finding their way to the ground as he is placed in the exact spot he has been trying to find: the food source. he kneads at the soft flesh, coaxing the warm milk into his mouth as he slurps down as much as he can.
as his mother speaks, the vibrations cause him to pause mid-slurp, and a dribble of milk careens down the side of his mouth. as soon as her voice stops, he goes back to business and continues his meal. it will be many weeks before he has his first taste of meat.

She watches him with a love unlike the other's she has felt. She wants to see him grow, to tell him and his sister's all of her secrets in their early days like they are her closest confidants. Maybe they would be.

Waawaashkeshi wonders when she will be able to begin telling them stories. Which would be truly appropriate for young pups, anyways? Maybe she would think up a new one just for them.

But the future was slow coming, and all she could do was wait. Laying her head down once more she watched her trio with a new sense of reassurance. They would be okay.

Would you like to fade?

his mother watches with kind, caring eyes, no doubt in awe of how frail his tiny little life. as for kogi, he is content to sup. his tiny paws knead for milk but begin to slow as they do, the suckling sounds growing quieter and more spaced out. eventually, he detaches from the food source, yawns, stretches, and promptly falls into his second deep slumber of the day.