Swiftcurrent Creek The sight of pups, the taste of pelts

When her mother nosed at Durnehviir's sable back, the young Frostfur stirred. She rumbled a muffled grown of protest into the downy golden pelt of her brother Relonikiv, who she'd curled close to in the night for warmth. It was breakfast time, she knew, but hunger had not yet stirred in her belly. It was sleep she desired that morning and, eager to doze again, Durnehviir snuggled closer to the littlest of her siblings.

Thankfully, the provider of food and security did not move to rouse the child again, having likely turned her attention to another of the pups. Durnehviir stole those few precious minutes of sleep before the body on her opposite side shifted away, taking his warmth and leaving an uncomfortable void.

Without even thinking about it, the youngster opened her stormy eyes completely. She blinked once, twice, three times and lifted her head to stare at the blurry spot by her flank. Movement, the shuffling of Julius as he dragged himself from his litter-mates, caused the mottled youth to turn her face towards her brother and follow his movements with big, beautiful blinking doe eyes. She simply observed, uncertain whether to follow or not.