Sawtooth Spire I'm Not a Hero

Sitamat wasn't taking well to this whole, less naps more play thing. He returned to the den after each outing (as short as they were) tired and grumpy, falling into a heap and succumbing to sleep almost as soon as his head hit the ground each time. He was a lazy pup, a trait that probably rubbed his mother and her stern attitude the wrong way. Whether he would grow out of it or not, only time would tell.

Her soft chuff at them from somewhere outside caused the youngest to reluctantly awaken and roll onto his side to face the entrance of the den. Already, Pingasut had raced outside, and Sitamat watched after his smaller brother with an almost pained expression. He rolled about on the ground for a few moments, stretching and yawning, in absolutely no rush to join the rest of his siblings.

What their mother had in store for them today, he did not know, but he was already against the idea. Unless it involved food. The thought thrust the boy into action, and he quickly struggled onto his feet, stumbling over himself as he bumbled outside, greeting Tonravik with an eager lick to the side of her mouth.