Seaside Moors from the sky through the middle air

When her mother spoke of leaving the den, she was apprehensive, at best. She lingered behind a second or two longer than her sister, looking to the sunning stone and then the den itself; although it grew cramped as their bodies increased in size, she could not help but feel attached to it. But, ultimately, the child followed after her mother and sister, eagerness to see more in the world growing with each step. Caught up in admiring the scenery, too, she stumbled a few times here and there—curse her awkward, lengthening limbs!—but was always quick to right herself. And when a gust of air passed her by, she slowed to a stop and raised her muzzle up against it, finding comfort in the salty scent it carried.