Ankyra Sound Remember, lads and lassies, fairy tales weren't fun stories. They were warnings.

Maybe if he tried, he would hear the calling of gulls — but the den is too far from the water. A good call by the mothers, considering the many lives they have birthed. If he were older then Reyes would eagerly investigate the world outside. Climb the slopes up to the jagged black trees, or draw as close to the water as he could to watch the waves unfurl. For now he is cowed by his youth, and the sound of his mother's voice calling sweetly to him. It won't be this way for long.

He hears her voice and it drowns out the white-noise that has him so focused. It is loud; made louder because of the earth walls around them. Loud enough to startle him, make his sleepy heart wake and tremble, but only for the newness of the sensation. He does not know what she is saying but she is trying to call to him, and he is lured back from the den mouth.

The words are like a spell. Within moments he has tumbled back to the pile and wedged himself by some part of his mother, draped in the shadow cast by her raised head. He has stopped his whistling until he's placated on the floor of the den — and with a curious lift of his blunt nose, he calls again, Weeeeooo-oh, and plants a slobbery little kiss against her chin.