Golden Glade morbid stuff

Quixote enjoyed watching the pups.  Their older siblings would hardly be required to pupsit at this rate because Qui was ever eager to hang out with the little guys.  Let's be real, it was much easier to keep watch over the three little fuzzballs at this stage, they could save the heavy artillery for later on.

He'd gone for a bit of a walk earlier in the day, adventuring up to the plateau more to just see if anyone had been by than for any real reason and had returned home with a large wing feather from what was probably a goose.  It was in pretty good shape for something left around the edges of a lake for an indeterminate amount of time, so he retrieved it to see what the kids thought of it.  He still remembered what Owen had thought of the antler, so if he managed to dredge up another of those, that was gonna get saved until they were significantly larger.  A feather, though, should be pretty safe.  It was reasonably soft, light, and as long as they didn't go out of their way to jab themselves with the quill, it'd probably be fine for them to explore.  Only thing left was to see what they thought, so he'd stashed it up against a wall of the den and waited to see if anyone would 

Orr was roaming around right now while his siblings seemed to be napping, and he'd been watching his son with a bemused but curious expression.  Kids were... Interesting.  He still wasn't sure how much was just them still trying to find where their personality was and how their senses functioned and how much was going to be an ongoing thing.  Interesting was seriously the best word he could think of.  At least until Orr booped in the wall, and Qui half sat up at the yelp, You okay over there?  His ears were pricked forward alertly.  The answer was almost certainly yes, but the noise certainly tugged at him.