Boartusk Heights the vampire diaries

Nymphora had grown restless. Now a little over a month old, her legs had begun to take shape, and though her paws remained like snowshoes on twigs, she wasn't keen on letting that stop her. Moreover, she'd begun to listen, the words of the big wolves grew less garbled and incomprehensible each day that passed, and her little char-tipped ears had started to form into points.

She'd begun to display a bit of a rebellious side, often stealing away from her siblings in favour of venturing through the dark caverns of the palace quarters, though one thing or another would typically send her reeling back, the first time, a swarm of bats had startled the whelp so badly she had tripped over her own paws in her retreat, and managed to puncture her lip with her brand new teeth. The second time? A spiderweb blocking a tunnel, which she absentmindedly walked right through. It was a long while before she dared to venture in again. She could still feel eight legs crawling up her neck. 

No, now she turned her sights to bigger fish, that bright light outside the den. The wind whistled around the peaks and played a song with every gust, scents wafted in too; that of iron, of animal, of flowers, it was enough to keep little minds stimulated, even if for a short while. Soon however, it would not be enough, and no manner of scolding would keep her from exploiting those limits.