Sun Mote Copse The father that taught me

Alyx would give sight a rating of 2/10. Even though it'd been a day or two since her eyes opened, she still could only focus on things if she practically pressed her nose to them. Anything further than that was naught but a blur of colour. Sometimes the colours moved, allowing her to recognize wolves from their surroundings, but mostly it was just one gigantic psychedelic swirl.

Luckily, she had her other senses to rely on until her eyes decided to cooperate. Now that her legs were strong enough to support her weight and she was even managing to toddle a few steps forward here and there, Alyx was beginning to really work her nose and her taste buds exploring her little world. Everything was approached with an eagerly wriggling nose, and if it smelled interesting enough, then her tongue was always soon to follow.

She couldn't see Phox in the dim light of the den, but she could certainly smell the delicious slurry he'd just spewed from his mouth. Alyx practically scrambled for the liquefied meat, pedalling her paws as fast as she could, which only resulted in her losing control and face planting directly into her meal. Completely heedless of how disgusting this was, she began slurping it up as quickly as she could, wriggling in place and gradually creating a meat slurry angel.

Someday, her family recollecting this inelegant display would prove mortifying.