Bearclaw Valley oi, with the poodles already

It was the case that Piper was something of an early bloomer when it came to her sight. Though she could not fasten her gaze to actual shapes and objects, she was enjoying the rare splash of color that decorated her everyday sights. Even the scents that filled the den had grown to be familiar to her; she could recognize the aroma of their mom, and the stinky smell that filled her nostrils whenever she was too close to Wyatt. Even then, she had grown used to her stinky brother too. Sound was still a foreign thing to her, so she wobbled her way toward her mother’s feeding station and planted her rotund body near to a teat so that she could feast. Not knowing that Wyatt was near, she wormed her head right into his rear and did not halt in enough time to save him from being toppled about.