Swiftcurrent Creek an occupation popular with demons and ducks

@Rhakios <3

despite being full of piss and vinegar at all times, Tiercel had worked up quite the ferocious appetite and fretted her mother’s heels with vexatious milk teeth as they walked in (relative) tandem. teeth were a relatively new weapon in her arsenal, sheathed behind her lips, lined up like tiny scythes, and the reprisal that followed brandishing them, even accidentally when nursing, was about as unpleasant as being the unlucky recipient of the needle-pointed cuspids. frequently, her gung-ho attitude resulted in a yelp, fire breathing dragons, and Wylla storming off with precious assets swinging away with her.

to quell the first teething, ofttimes Wylla returned to her cub with helpings of meat to rip into. regurgitated bits were introduced first, and then she was presented with small cuts of rabbit. today, Wylla took her hellion creek stomping—presumably after being driven nearly to infanticide by spears of puppy teeth.

this recent adventure had acquainted her with fish, salamanders, and box turtles, but she was nothing if not accident-prone, falling into the shallow pools in her pursuit of the creatures. strolling back home, Tiercel was soaked head to toe, the hairs of her crown wet and mussed up, but she had a wide smile on her face and snappiness in her step that denoted a successful outing. ”iiiiiiiiiiis!” she yelled tonally, trying to form her mouth around the word mom had easily summoned to existence: fish. 

the silver slip of her mother’s tiredly bobbing hips disappeared around a bend, just a short distance from the den. quietly, Tiercel hung back, putting off the inevitable directive of naptime by poking around the shrubs, sniffing every inch of the earth between her and the home front. her stomach purled with hunger, beckoning her to move in on the retreating teats of her dam—but a desire for adventure prevailed at the moment and found her galloping aimless laps around a rotted log.