Whitefish River I feel like prey, I feel like praying

"Four seems uncommon," remarked Saena, who had only ever known wolves with litters smaller than that, including her own litter. "It must've been tough. Scarlett was a brave and strong woman, though," and in so saying she forgot any mean and unfair thought she'd ever had about the white-furred female who was buried in the maplewood somewhere. That was perhaps the worst loss, but not one Saena had thought anything about until now. While she hadn't forgotten about Scarlett, the deceased were quick to slip the mind.

"Your mo—" and she got no further than that before Indra shrieked something horrific and made a surprisingly successful bound into the air. Even Milo flinched away mistrustfully, and Laurel shied back behind her mother's legs. "What the hell, child," Saena asked, but Indra leaped again and Saena pulled her muzzle deftly out of the way. She fixed her ruddy girl with a knowing side-eye when the oomph of a stunned child hitting the ground and not knowing how to react indicated that Indra was briefly stunned, and that was all it took for Milo to get involved.

He wasn't as good at leaping as his sister, but he attempted nonetheless, and sooner or later he was bound to step on Indra or fall over on Laurel or both in the process. "Whaaaat," Saena drawled in response to the male pup's weird bleating as he landed clumsily for a third time and promptly tumbled over onto his side, and she shot a grin at Desna, as if inviting her to join in in whatever messed up game her children had devised.