Qeya River if my grandmother had wheels, she would have been a bike

he was halted from the rapid patter to his brother's forehead by a soft sweep of a mother's paw. the word swallow did not register with the boy and so he assumed he had properly set his tooth right back to where it belonged, a triumphant little puff of his chest given in victory. 

he accepted the kiss before stumbling off back toward the den, brushing past bryony with a smirk before settling next to phoebe with an exaggerated yawn. he stretched himself out like the bed-hog he was before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep where he dreamt of all his teeth falling from his mouth.