Sawtooth Spire we are nothing but waddling colonies of tiny little monsters

The mother doubted any of her cubs had true control over the strength of their fangs yet, but she had been reprimanding them when they probed at her with them. It seemed he had learned, for as he lurched for the thing nearest to him—her foreleg—he did so without thrusting his tiny fangs into it. Tonravik watched him with some measure of interest, before her muzzle swept downward to press into his hinds to attempt to sweep him off of his feet. The mother was eager to show him the importance of remaining on all fours, and although against her he would have a difficult time with it (and perhaps it would take him a while to comprehend this lesson), she was not one to waste time.