Boartusk Heights wild roses

Sleepy, calm, and with a belly full of milk, Vincent lay sprawled against the warmth of his mother's side, stretched out horizontally and taking up as much space as his little form could. Despite being the only male of the litter, he was not blessed with a size that allowed him to gain the upper hand against his den mates. Despite this, he tried his best to bat away his pesky siblings and always have a front row seat at the proverbial dinner table; and currently, he was sleeping off his most recent success.

That was until he groggily creaked open one eye and saw a pale sister staring intently at something outside the den. His own sight had improved greatly since a few days ago, but he still could not make out much from any further than a few feet from his nose.

He rolled to his stomach, regarding first Nymphora, before clumsily lifting his head and trying to focus on the interloper who lurked just outside.