Sawtooth Spire watch the hoodwink

Yess'm!

The third born was discontent, and for once it was he that fussed. He squirmed around the den floor, pawing at his mouth and whining piteously. His milk teeth were coming, and he could find not relief from the ache that radiated from his gums. His brother's delighted squeal distracted him for a moment, and he turned his head to look at him. His sight at much developing left to do, but he could discern his brother from the object that he played with, and as the fox's blue eyes watched the leaf, he became less and less mindful of his tender mouth.

He rose to his paws and padded to Malrok's side, his red fur brushing against the ever-lightening fur of the second born. When he was shoulder to shoulder, he reached out to touch the leaf as he had seen Malrok do, but to his disappointment, it did not pop up for him the way it had for his sibling. He knitted his brows, and then yipped at it.