Dragoncrest Cliffs Louvri je ou

The days were long and tiring. For Chacal, almost all of her time was devoted to the kids- the only moments she left the den in those first ten days was to drink or to relieve her. Erzulie and Rosalyn gave her breaks so she could go outside and get a breath of air, warm herself in the sunlight, and Mireille was another she had welcomed into the den to lay with the pups so she could get some fresh air. 

The pups needed constant warmth, but she assured herself that this would soon be over. With the heat of summer moving in, the den was often warm enough anyway to keep the children snug. Perhaps this was the advantage her children would reap, having been born in the summer rather than the spring. No chilly babes. 

She was used to their voices and what their little cries meant. They each had a unique voice, a difference only she, her mothers and her sister would likely notice. But she could tell one pup from the other, and hunger from discomfort to frustration to the noises they made simply to make noises. 

Nevertheless, new noises always surprised her- and today, the kids were making sounds that she did not immediately recognize. Some mix of discomfort with frustration and surprise. She leaned toward her son to settle him but saw the first gleam in his eyes just before he bumped his nose into the pad of her paw and fall backwards. Hardened by a life of walking on hot sand, her paw pads probably felt tough. 

”Look at you,” She said. Squirming in a similar, uncomfortable manner was his older brother, with his eyes open as well. ”Salut, mon p’tit!” She greeted him proudly. It was early for them to be seeing and hearing- but only by a day or two so it must have meant good health. She felt a pang of guilt. 

She’d mostly settled on their names, but they hadn’t been spoken out loud yet. Only Suzu had been given a name, and only because Chacal feared she might die without one. Suzu and her brother were quiet still, but she supposed this would be as good a time as any to make her final decisions on their names.

”Theo,” She murmured, his name a gentle two-note motif, over her first-born child, who looked tired. She swept her tongue along his side and chuckled softly. Her children were so soft; she wished they could stay this soft forever but they would need to grow in a coarse coat the block out the high sea winds. 

”Étienne,” She chimed, his name a three-note motif that rose and fell. She sought to reassure him by cleaning his face, and passing her muzzle along the length of his side. She couldn’t remember how disorienting the brightness and sound had been at first- but she was glad to be a part of the first few experiences they had. 

To the third boy, calm and quiet, she settled on another name that was musical in nature, like his sister’s. ”Requiem.” She said, three falling notes that might fall on deaf ears. He would hear his name when he was ready, same as Suzu, whose eyes and ears remained stubbornly closed for the time being.