Nova Peak Niende Dag

Chipeta was calm as she was carried to the hide, but within moments began to fret. Soft, short calls for the warmth of her siblings, the heartbeat of her mother- all of which came without delay. It worked; the little singing bird found yet again that her voice might be her greatest asset. 

The pelt beneath her was soft and thick, and grew warm as she lay, little paws kneading. She felt little paws thump against her side- nothing new, and nothing to fret about. 

The novelty was the heartbeat that came not from her mother or her siblings, but from the ground beneath her. Racing and sporadic at first, only to grow more rhythmic and synchronized with time. 

Something grazed her brow and left her perfumed with a pleasant scent. She turned her head to her brother and sniffed. Her little pink tongue darted out as she tasted the blood that marked his brow. 

She would weather the spotlight humbly, and without protest. The singing and chanting serenaded the little bird who tried to sing along with quiet little coos- until eventually she settled in to listen, and allow their voices to settle her in for a deep slumber.