Silver Creek walking babies

For Mona, the world was a small place. Everything that ever was, and ever would be, was in the den. Though her motor skills were developing finely, allowing her to make her clumsy rounds around the whelping den, Mona felt no compelling reason to traipse toward the bright sunlight that filtered in though the den's narrow mouth. In fact, she felt more comfortable in the darkness; in the cool, damp shadow.

Initially, Mona protested her mother's prompting with her newly learned favorite word. "Noooooooooooooo," she pleaded, floppy ears falling back against her skull.