Whitefish River Fairytale beginnings

Curled at her mother's side tucked up beside her lookalike, and surely not too far away from her brothers, she lifted her head towards the source of such strange smells as soon as she realized them wafting her way.

Her nostrils flared, and with bleary, blinking eyes, she searched her sights towards the entrance of the den; by the day, her eyesight was slowly improving, but most of the time, there was not that much for her to see here within the confines of her underground world. Besides the bodies of her family unit, or the fuzzy glimpses of the others the pup could grab from here within, that was about it. Anything beyond that registered as unfamiliar, and this was one of those times, apparently.

Syrma stayed still besides a soft, wary peep to basically say she was not bothered yet, but could be soon if much upheaval was to come.