Moonspear the harvest

Scents other than that of his mother and sister filled the air of the den. Two very distinct and different odors wafted to his nose. One was like him, Kukutux and Sialuk. Kind of. The other, well... It was completely and utterly different. Alien. Neither of them in particular were of any interest to him. Not such a young age. Letting his cold nose barely graze the fine dark hairs of Ayla's paw, he just as swiftly lost interest. Twisting awkwardly to scuttle his way back towards his mother and the scent of food, he grunted, frustrated with the terribly slow progress he was making.