Stavanger Bay They are growing like weeds

Thistle sat gently in the cave entry way. She turned to chuff gently at Ragna as she babbled at her, trying to garner her attention. She had allowed a smile to fall across her muzzle as she saw Jorunn's paws windmill in the air. She waited silently to see if the little ones would come to the entrance way. Though it was against their culture, honestly she could not make the effort to keep them away from the sun. Not when she herself wanted the sun to warm her fur. She missed Ragnar, it was like a dull ache. She knew that her children would not remember him, would not know of who he was. She would tell them of him of course, but it could never make up for the man himself.

She pawed gently at the two babes taht were wide awake. Inviting them to play ungainly and strangely, but play all the same. She was actually looking forward to a little fun.