Redhawk Caldera Yankee Bayonet

Had Whip's nose been unplugged and ready to smell the rotten fruits of his labor, perhaps his face would have scrunched with both displeasure and delight. His expression, however, remained unchanged as he writhed and squirmed across the cold den floor in search of the nearest body of warmth. His little legs only took him so far until he was lifted in the air by his mother's jaws.

Completely taken aback, Whip's mouth hung agape as he piped up with a small and frightened squeal. Stubby legs peddled clumsily below him - splaying wide - but he was soon set back in the comfort of his brother pile and this frightening experiance was soon. expelled from his mind. He writhed for a spot among @Gannet, @Ferret, and @Peter, until he was finally comfortable. Once settled, his toothless jaws parted with a wide and tired yawn.