Redhawk Caldera goodnight, officers

At the ripe old age of 14 days, little Whip's senses were beginning to come into their own. His stubby legs still wobbled as he hopped around, but the pup no longer had any trouble traipsing around the den. Unlike when he was a newborn, Whip no longer felt the need to sit still and rest... It was always go, go, go. Sights and smells (being such new and developing sensations) stole all of the the young pup's attention. Even in this tiny whelping den, Whip could see the world was a vast place— full of wonder in even the tiniest things.  

Despite the curiosity the drove him, Whip had yet to leave the whelping den. The only sights and smells lending themselves to his mental catalogue were his mother and father, his siblings, and the brown dirt walls of the den. Today, however, Whip's world was about to get much bigger. He was coaxed out of the whelping den by his mother, and soon found himself wide eyed in the grass.

Along with his brother, Whip also attempted to imitate his mother's call in a rather dim and pitchy fashion. It was a strange thing; noise. He liked it... In the coming days he'd make as much of it as possible despite not knowing what any of it meant, probably to the chagrin of both his parents. His mother's howl had it's effect and soon their shelling den was surrounded by company. 

Seeing vague, fuzzy shapes appear around him and his brothers -- all staring -- Whip approached and stared back blankly before levying a squeaky bark toward all the strangers. Who knew there'd be so many of them?