Swiftcurrent Creek Swift and sweet

Arric's perceived peace probably existed only in his daydreams (or he had a very low bar for it), because at least one of the fluffy potatoes called Burdock (but he did not yet respond to his name) was busy, busy, busy from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep mid-activity. If he was not fighting with his siblings for the best spot at the milk restaurant, he was engaging in hairdresser (or rather "-remover") activities. It had been such a pleasant feeling to pluck out the tufts of winter undercoat from his parents's fur that he continued to do it long after the shedding had been over. Then - if he had been disciplined about being too annoying with this (and attacking and biting paws of the adults), he was actively exploring the surroundings of the den with an attention span of a... well, someone, who has none at all. Everything was interesting and he went from one thing to the other with such a speed that, if you were not careful and watchful enough, Burdock could easily disappear from the view. Here the little devil was and in a blink of an eye he no longer was present. 

Almost like magic, eh? 

Anyhow - his dad's moments of bliss had coincided with Burdock's nap - he had fallen asleep, almost face planting the ground with a twig firmly grasped in is jaws. 45 minutes later his black bead like eyes with a devillish look in them were wide open, he sprang to his feet, choked a bit on the twig and shook his coat. After quickly surveying the area, he darted towards his dad in straight line and with a tiny-needle-sharp teeth lined jaws open he pounced at his face.