Sawtooth Spire weebles wobble but they don't fall down

The squeak emitted was a different squeak. The sounds had classifications, now: hunger, restlessness, constipation, cold, lost... and the sound emitted was not one of those. The mother lifted her head, dark eyes honing in on the dust-colored Malrok who was the source of the noise, watching as he moved in a superman like motion, lifting his leg—the mother was quick to get to all fours and step over her cubs to pluck him from where he stood before he could touch anything before she assessed it. In doing so, she wheeled around and deposited him among his brothers, and it was then she turned to look down at what he had squeaked at, trying to figure out what it was he had found.