Sawtooth Spire It was the 14th of October, had that T-shirt off your shoulder

Black ears snatched back when she realized Phaedra was not, as expected, at her side. Wylla's yellow eyes flit frantically around the den, passing over the tiny fair-haired tail poking out from under the pelts at least twice before she noticed it. The unwelcome press of panic against her heart subsided, replaced by a scowl and a grumble.

If you wanted to suffocate you should've said so before your father saved your life, grumped Wylla, grasping the pup's tiny tail none-too-gently with dull incisors and tugging on it.