Sawtooth Spire pay attention

She saw the same thing her mate did. The boys grew by the day. And the size of their paws betrayed that they would share similar statures with their parents—it was fortunate that was not presently the case—and Tonravik knew that she and her mate both pushed the time allowed for cubs staying in their whelping den. Tonravik could abide to her instinct in the search, but with no place found yet satisfying her desire for their rendezvous site (nor her mate) they had yet to leave the rocky chasm that the boys were born in.

They would, in any case. It had taken long enough, and so now there was no doubt they'd happen upon a good place soon.

Tonravik returned to the den where her mate currently lingered with the cubs. One cub in particular loitering at the entrance caught her attention. An ear flicked as she observed her for a moment. He was growing whiter by the day, it appeared, which was an unexpected transition. But not one she questioned. Cubs could come in any color. One looked like a fox. It meant little to nothing to her. What mattered was that he was alive and well.

She came bearing snacks. Beneath her jaws swung some (three) plump hares she had chased for an extensive amount of time for the chase alone. Tonravik stunk of sweat, betraying just how long she had let the hares run from her. It was no real challenge... but Tonravik enjoyed herself, sprinting up the steep slopes, bounding from rock to rock, outmaneuvering the creature with all she learned from her time here thus far... and even learning some things from the doomed, long-eared things. Tonravik dropped them unceremoniously to the earth before licking her bloody chops. She hadn't been hungry at the time. She brought the food for her cubs, and if her mate was hungry, he could take one himself. She noted the bone pile and made like a bee to a flower it had yet to claim, aiming to grab one to gnaw.