Sawtooth Spire Corynorhinus

Tonravik didn't get his next words and tilted her head, clearly perplexed by it. She knew all the words in his tongue–Tonravik had simply missed that his addition of "please" was a request that she tag-on that word to her request. Tonravik had taken his words literally, as ever, and the cave-woman had thought he wanted to summon her. As he entered slowly but surely, Tonravik still did not think differently-she had misunderstood. 

As he came in, Tonravik was only stiff. But his entrance was gradual, and with each inch he covered her tension died. Her eyes looked to her babes, who looked to her but once as though expecting her to stop them. Typically they would be right... But, not today. They each–as a herd–bumbled toward him. Tonravik belly-crawled forward herself to be nearer, but her mate still had room for his whole body. 

She introduced them, giving him their names, and looked to him. Her tail thumped against the ground gently. “They cannot go outside yet,” Tonravik informed, idly nosing one. Her dark eyes fell to him, near-indiscernible with the light he had blocked. “Is all well?” She spoke of the pack, and of him, too; their conversations were often cut short by exhaustion or the bear cubs demands.