Bearclaw Valley first victim

pubbies..

all is warm inside the den. a blanket of comfort and security, the promise of protection from ma and dad he's yet to see. but he can smell them, faintly—mother's warm milk, fathers strong scent. it is a peace that will not last. 

especially not with his brother. tiny teeth bite at his scruff, slicking it with saliva. he rouses and kicks, tiny paws finding purchase against his brothers. a soft whine leaves him, followed by an angry coo. 

he squirms and wriggles, pushing himself into his brothers space, tiny jaws parting to try and find something to teeth on.