Redhawk Caldera A-a-and clean this place up or dungeon!

Although the intelligence of the newborns was hardly in question, it would soon be known that Titmouse was by far the dumbest.

With his face buried against Phox's fluffy tummy he seemed to quiet down; his mouth closed around a tuft of fluff and he nibbled on that, spat it out, nibbled, spat, until he'd gotten his brother's underside nice and damp. Except then, as Phox latched on to a teat again, Tit latched on to a particularly dense chunk of fluff and skin near the boy's throat and sort of... Well... Gave him a hickey. And this time when he let go, he took the fur with him — tearing out a wad of fur which became a nasty spit-ball of hair that Raven had to swiftly try to remove, just as the babe began to choke on it. At least he wasn't screaming though? (Or for that matter, chewing on his sister's no-no parts).