Bearclaw Valley For some birthday or some Christmas that has come and gone

With two months under her belt, Nunataq had dashed into her third like a cunami wave. Now she reminded less of an awkward fat loaf with five limbs and a head, but more of a little daredevil with wolf and malinois features mixed and blended in equal parts. She had mastered walking and running almost gracefully, tripping and falling down only 1 out of 10 times. Her baby teeth had grown sharper and, whenever the opportunity presented itself, she was not afraid to put them to use. It was wonder that those adults, who played with her, had not run screaming by now, when the piranha appeared on the horizon.

Nuna had no problems about leaving the den as frequently as possible and spen all of her waking and most of her sleeping hours outside. Running around, playing, digging, destroying and attacking stuff, barking at birds and squirrels, and mice that were out of her reach and eventually falling asleep somewhere, only to wake up an hour later and go on as if nothing had happened.

This morning's romp had ended with her digging and hiding herself under a patch of brown fallen leaves, therefore, when Lucas woke her up by calling her name (she did not seem to understand much in terms of words, but she knew, when people were addressing her, in most cases), she sprang out of the pile of leaves like a girl out of a birthday cake. With wagging tail and a friendly grin she approached her sibling, curious to find out, what he had in mind. She was up to anything!