Sawtooth Spire entire season of savings

One clean, one near-escapee to go. Dragging him back roughly, the mother placed him near her belly to swipe her tongue over him. He was bigger now, which meant it took a bit longer. Their sounds were certainly louder. And it was as though they were responding to her. The mother nosed Atuaserk and was about to speak his name again but her mate spoke. Did they know their names? No, she did not think so. But now she felt they would soon pick up on it.

"Naga," she responded, shaking her head. "They are more vocal today," Tonravik informed, and looked at the boys. "Perhaps they soon will." The mother was sure to keep them away from the mouth of the den, bullying them backward with a rough nudge of her snout. "Atuaserk," she spoke, looking to him. Then, his brother, "Malrok." How would she teach them who she was? What she was to be called?

At the very least, she could teach them of the beast that lay outside. "Your atatak is there," she gestured to the light, "Silata," the outside. It would take time for them to learn, but every day in the next coming week she would speak to them to identify. "Atatak," she called, hoping he would respond verbally, wanting them to hear and know. These things she would do, little by little. She would not speak too much, but when she would, it was to teach them of some words. She did not know how long it would take her cubs to form them, but if they could understand, she would figure it out. Day by day. As they were sure to do.