Swiftcurrent Creek the season to be jolly

Without sight or sound to round out his sensory perception of the world, there wasn't much to do yet but eat, sleep and poop—not necessarily in that order but each done no less than a dozen times throughout the day. Presently, the litter's smallest member combined two: he slept with a teat in his mouth, giving it a slow tug perhaps every five minutes or so.

Something or other woke him and he performed a fourth skill: he wriggled. Then came the fifth and final trick in his tiny repertoire: he smiled. His mouth opened wide and his tongue lolled out over his chin, exposing his pink gums to the small world of the den. Relonikiv was unaware that this particularly dopey grin was aimed directly at Bazi.