Swiftcurrent Creek the season to be jolly

Someone came to her rescue, scooping her close to a thickly-furred chest that bore a strong scent she'd known since her birth, and at once little Durnehviir felt at ease. She nosed through the pale pelt of her guardian, snuggling close with soft mewls of contentment.

She had already discovered that this adult was not the provider of food, but she did share warmth and give protection. It was these things that the mottled Frostfur now sought, and just as she prepared to settle down and demand to be fussed over, one of her brothers saw fit to use her as some sort of chew toy.

At once, she objected. She parted her tiny jaws and cried out, a piercing sound that could very likely rouse headaches for both present adults in the den.