Sawtooth Spire ding, ding, we have a winner

He was at it again. It had been a little over 48 hours since she had added him into this world. He presently lived to pluck at the thin chords of her nerves. Her ears were perked, but she mostly ignored the squalor he produced. Tonravik would not reward him for it—but of course, there were instances where he did yell for good reason, such as being unable to get to a teat, or needing help to defecate. Having done the latter but a short time ago, and also knowing he was close enough to a teat to latch on to it if that were the reason for his upset, the mother glared to the outward hole of the den.

She rose and trotted outside for a brief moment. All but Malrok slept, and she needed a quick drink; the stream was close enough where nothing could enter in her twenty-second long (if that) absence. Iqniq was likely patrolling and securing the borders, and Tonravik was swift to enter back into the den and wrap herself around all four bodies.