Sawtooth Spire here goes the cold water

The sky broke its silence, and she observed her cubs as her mate did. Atuaserk was initially frightened—perhaps shocked, was the correct word—by it, before challenging it with a growl. Sitamat was truly nervous... and Pingasut was relaxed. Malrok seemed to hang back, observant, and as anxious as any during their first experienced storm. The likes of this one was nothing in comparison to the one she and her mate had experienced while she carried them... and so, her own nerves at the growling sky were virtually nonexistent anymore. She had never liked storms, their thunderclaps an irritant to her sensitive ears. It barked, and she could not understand... but after the storm of the century that had tore apart the Spine, Tonravik was content to observe the storm now herself.

She ate two of the four, and offered her mate the other one with an idle nudge though he had gone a couple feet off to eat his own. Tonravik was surprised the fourth-born favored nervousness to food... and more surprised that Pingasut arrived to her side to ask to be fed before the others. She lowered her muzzle, though could not yet wretch without them poking at it. Pingasut did just that, and she was able to release their collective meal. Tonravik licked her chops and turned to look to the sky. The clouds in the distance had released water and rain began to fall a little less than a mile off... Soon, it would reach them. Another peal of thunder sounded, and Tonravik slid to her belly.