Golden Glade sober

At first, Hawthorn was confused. A moment ago, everything had been fine, but then suddenly, the world was tilted and lying flat on its side, and he couldn't seem to move anymore despite the effort he put into flailing his tiny limbs. Confusion soon turned into annoyance, as it always did with little youngest Pryor child, and so he opened his maw and wailed, screaming his frustration out for the entire world to hear. He couldn't care less if he woke his peacefully sleeping siblings, or his mother. Sure, he loved them, or he would grow to love them eventually, but right now, the boy was selfish and ignorant, as every baby was. Perhaps, Hawthorn would grow out of it eventually, but right now, nothing was going to stop him screaming his heart out.

Or so he thought. Another large body, a wolf he would soon know as his father, nuzzled him gently and softly nudged him back upright. With a small whine, the potato stumbled and struggled, but managed to get back on all four paws. Blue eyes narrowed in determination, and the boy continued his mission to walk once more, except this time he had a goal. Hawthorn was going to walk all the way over to the furry mountain (Alder's paw) and sit on it. 

With renowned purpose, the youngest pup took several clumsy and shaky steps forward, face scrunched up cutely in concentration. The furry hill was growing closer and closer now! 

Then, obviously, Hawthorn fell on the ground once more.

This time, however, the boy did not cry or scream or whine. He was silent, utterly silent, as he struggled to get back on all four paws. It took sometime, but he made it. And when he did, Hawthorn simply stood there on wobbly paws and blinked up at his father, blue eyes bright and curious.