Swiftcurrent Creek the season to be jolly

Lmfao! "Puppy trollop", hahaha.

Durnehviir was perhaps the most vocal of the litter. If one of her brothers bumped her accidentally, mistook her for a teat, climbed over her, even breathed out the wrong nostril, the mottled Frostfur was yowling in outrage. On that particular day, however, with her mother taking a rare nap and with her siblings either quietly nursing or dozing, Durnehviir was content to bask in the warmth and comfort of her favourite resting place: tucked against her dam's chest, her little head propped atop an alabaster forelimb and the rest of her body sheltered by Paarthurnax' furry throat.

Vibrations of another adult's voice captured her attention, however, and the cinnamon-tipped infant tried to lift her crown. She mewled softly - I'm here! - and wriggled forth from her resting place, attempting to crawl over the mountain that was her mother's leg. Groaning with the effort, Durnehviir hoisted herself over but was unable to catch herself on the other side, so was sent tumbling in Bazi's direction with a sharp cry of surprise.