Sunspire Mountains macrotus

Tonravik withdrew and then decided to watch. She could not help this, it would seem. His fussing aggravated her more than worried her. She would frequently forget how young they were. Handle yourself, whelp—would be the most frequent thought of hers for each of them when something caused them to be so noisy. But their sounds alerted her enough to at the very least try something to aid them. She was most oft right, fortunately... but grew agitated when she was wrong and the noise persisted. That, too, caused her to humor eating them. No more noise. Presently, she wondered: would she need to devour another babe...? Would he die of this noise? His whining made her fear for his mortality, that he might perish from it... but, it would appear not. Her tail twitched as she watched him latch onto her and quiet down entirely at last. A gentle flick of her tongue was cast upon his head, an odd sort of pride welling in her chest for no reason at all. You did it, the mother thought to herself. He had figured out the cure all by himself. And now, she could sleep. So she moved her wedgelike snout to rest behind the cubs, and closed her eyes, hoping to fall into the beginnings of sleep.