Hideaway Strath As the summer wind

Vassago had, once finding his shaky legs and his blundering eyesight, been unstoppable. For such a little pup, he was a strong boy, growing well, and squirmier than ever. Mostly, thankfully, he was a quiet child, preferring to use the only language he knew out of instinct: that of his body. Sound came later, squealing, whining, barking or an attempt at howling, when nobody heeded to his wishes. His little brother, Pyro, was often encouraged to come along with those big blue eyes they temporarily shared, the eldest child being much more careful as the days passed. There were times, of course, when there was no other option but play with the more fragile thing, in which the usual brotherly bruteness was sometimes unavoidable.
Even then, now that they lived on the move, there was less contact between the boys, and Vassago wished he was closer to the little lump. Words were not yet possible, and most of the time he was in the lead anyways, with Pyro and what had been come to mind as Mama, were far behind. 
Vass had his eyes wide open for the majority of the mountain climb, if only because the blue things stared down with the newfound horror of, well, HORROR. So high he was up off the ground, so unstable. Something deep inside him urged to GO, get back to the earth that was soft, and surrounded with trees. Often when Burke swung him too close to the earth did he scramble at the rock with his tiny claws and soft paws, but his father just refused to put him down. It must not have bothered him much, though, since he was as silent as the stone itself. 
Imagine his happiness when Malice, finally in view again, seemed to motion towards him. The man carrying him responded, and a thrill ran through young Vassago. Mama was the one who ruled them, yes, and it was also she who gave him the milk and love he so craved at all hours of the night and day. Whimpering happily, his worm of a tail squirming in a happy wag, Vassago pawed towards the grey shape of of his mother from where he was in his fathers grasp. In his own way, he was demanding Burke let him go to her, to be dropped and allowed back to all the food he wanted and just as much love from his family. Burke was good too, fu to play with, but he could not yet compare to the puppy when it came to food.