Swiftcurrent Creek The sight of pups, the taste of pelts

She watched as her brother gummed and sucked at the dark furs on which they lay, and blinked her stormy eyes as she tried to better focus on him. The coloured canvas before her was strange and rather frightening, and as she looked toward the entrance of the den that Julius seemed to move toward, Durnehviir squinted against the lift. It was harsh to a cold who'd known only darkness her while life and, with a soft whimper, turned her face towards her mother.

This was a wolf she'd never seen before, and yet she felt that she knew her so vividly. Paarthurnax' face was beautiful: fine, delicate, and reminding the girl of warmth and safety. At once her fear of this new sense dissipated, and a babyish smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

Something - or someone - very rudely bumped right into her and, with a mewl of surprise, Durnehviir canted her mottled head to look upon her attacker. The palest of her siblings was right by her side, poking at her with his cold nose. At first she was outraged, but when she locked her gaze to his pallid form, intrigue took over. With curious noises she turned enough to gaze directly into Julius' face, which was nothing like her dam's. "Ooo?" Durnehviir emitted softly, moving in closer to better examine her sibling by placing on his brow the sloppiest of kisses.