Blackfeather Woods my sun and stars

Staring. He was good at it, the boy. As he stared, from the den's mouth, he watched his siblings, the pale boy that pushed by him, his sister, his mother. She stared. He stared. But his gaze was drawn to another, dark shape, and for a moment he was confused. A second mother? But no, this one did not have the mother-smell that Mother had. 

Interesting.

His blue gaze locked on the adult, the lean black shape. He stared at the eyes, a white, like his father. As he stared, his mouth fell open a moment, a yawn, but held, perhaps, longer than necessary. When he felt that the male had been thoroughly stared at, then did he move, not with the eagerness of his sister, however. A slow, cautious gate was his as he prowled (well, as best a pup can prowl) around the den, hugging the den as he scanned the clearing, away from the small gathering.