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

So Nunataq didn't really know how to dance. Lucas couldn't fault her for that; after all, it had taken some coercion to teach his siblings how to do it. Piper had easily obliged but Wyatt was resistant to it even now, dour as he was, very much like their maternal grandfather whom they would never meet. He swayed anyway, taking pleasure in his most favourite form of expression, until Nunataq zipped around him in quick circles and flipped the switch on another part of him.

Down went his torso and his front limbs splayed outward. His tail continued to bop up and down in time with whatever music seemed to persist inside his mind, but his tongue was out and his ears were alert and crisp over his head. His pale blue eyes locked on Nunataq's black-lined nose and then he was launching himself, a sort of lurching mass of puppy rolls, for a tackle.