Sawtooth Spire wrong side of the tracks

Tonravik nodded. They would see, but the only choice she had was to trust him. He had made the mistake once, and Tonravik did not think her mate dense to do it again. Too much risk, not enough reward there. A second of their life could not possibly be worth the rest of it he would miss in the early grave she would try to put anyone in that dared test her restricted boundaries. But in her head, the only reason anyone would try to enter was to take and harm. Even if someone were to explain to her a thousand times over this was not their intent and like her mate only wanted a look, she could never believe it. Tonravik herself would more likely than not be ruthless toward any other babe that was not her own whilst she could intervene on their lives... it was, of course, why her mother had sent her off in the first place. Tonravik likely would have died in the process in any case... Even so young, the babes were competition against her own potentials. And here they were, in the flesh... behind her. If it was projection, she didn't know it; even if she was faulted for it, she would not care. For now, this was the way it was and the way it would always be until they were a month old and those instincts abated.

His interjection was met with a shrug. If all infants were this way, her belief was that they were all dumb. Weren't they? Smart only to their needs, which was necessary, but still not particularly bright. It was her opinion and she stuck to it, her opinion on the leeches low despite her "doting". They would not be this way forever. He was right, they did seem to learn. She learned, too. Cubs did not come into the world knowing everything. Only with the ability to latch on and drink, and sleep. She had to help them do anything else, defecation included; but as her instinct was to aid them, she saw no issue in that. They could not help that they were dumb, but that did not mean that they weren't.

Of course, her opinions were harsh. As her mate wished, she too wanted to speed this process along. Her time with them was exhausting but at least now, there was some sort of ritual. Tonravik was able to sleep when they did at last. That schedule would go haywire when they opened their eyes but the brief reprieve was enough to give her system a much needed reboot.

He lay upon the earth now, and her lobes swiveled atop her head. Malrok exercised his vocal chords further, and at his word Tonravik took the raccoon and turned, tossing it into the den before grabbing him and bringing him to his brothers who had miraculously stayed still throughout, bundled together and keeping as warm as they could. She lent her body heat to them and placed Malrok near what he had cried for, licking at each of their backs to warm them before grabbing for the raccoon and placing a foreleg upon it to keep it still while she tore at it.

Tonravik licked her bloody lips, hearing again the voice of her mate. She looked to the light that shone through the mouth of the den and informed him: "Malrok," and the woman had to snort in a matter that enabled him to know she agreed. He was more than that, he was an earful. He wanted to know more of them... what could she tell him? "Atuaserk is quiet, and good," Quieter than the rest of them, at least, and strong, too, it seemed; "Pingasut is..." she tilted her head, frowning, "Different. Behaved, at least." Then to the lastborn, the male that shared a derivative of her name: "Sitamat is always hungry. He eats more than the rest." He was not rounder for it, though... but he was large. He and their first-born shared the same girth.