Stavanger Bay dark before the dawn

Open for anyone who would realistically be allowed inside the den ...I might also pp Ragnar in here a little bit because I can do that lol. :-)

Jorunn did not know how many days had passed since he had slid through his mother's birth canal and into the world, the disruption of what was perfect into chaos. Into something so imperfect that it's existence couldn't — and shouldn't — be possible. Time had no meaning to the young Ragnarsson. Few things had meaning to him: the rumble in his stomach, uncomfortable, and the instinct that drew him to Thistle's teat to the warm liquid that was his lifeblood, the rumble in his abdomen when he was ready to expel what his tiny body considered to be waste, and the press of his siblings at his sides. The warmth of his mother and the soft tenor of a rumble that he would, in time, come to know as father. There were other rumbles too besides those of his parents. He could not hear them, but he could feel the vibrations as they communicated to one another, their words and meanings falling upon deaf ears.

The tenor rumble was nearby, Jorunn sensed, assuming this because when he went to nurse — because though he wasn't truly hungry he did not know what else to do aside from suck on one of his siblings' paws which yielded him no satisfaction — he received nothing more than a mouthful of fur. A indignant cry left the fragile Berserker's lips, though he knew he made a noise only by the vibration that left his vocal chords; butting his head against, whilst shoving his nose rudely into Ragnar's hardened side. No soft like the milk-giver. Give me food, His insistent poking seemed to say though after a small while — for his attention span remained that of a gnat's — this ceased as he became more interested in whatever sibling happened to be the right of him, crawling and poking his nose into whatever he could find.