Sawtooth Spire weebles wobble but they don't fall down

Tonravik watched as her first-born fell and her second-born nearly fell himself, but kept in his sitting position. They battled with their mouths, duplicating in a toothless way a jaw spar, globbing one another with nothing but their gums. Tonravik knew this was a battle neither won... or, was it? How did things work in their tiny minds? Was this even a battle? Or was this a ritual of recognizing one another, brother to brother. The cubs certainly made her think more than she was used to, but Tonravik contented herself in thinking that already her sons were practicing something. Unlikely, but she did not care.