Stavanger Bay give me daughters, send me sons, i'll make them all chosen ones

For anyone allowed in the den!  Dog sausage time.

The scope of her world was very narrow.  It was limited to sensing, not thinking.  She was aware of things, but was without the knowledge to name them or aptly respond.  She was a creature of instinct, and little else.

She could crawl along at a snail's pace, and she could sleep.  But her favorite was eating, and so that was what she did with whatever frequency she was allowed.  Currently, she was quite interested in doing so, so she let out cries of indignation, hoping to catch the attention of someone who could rectify her situation.  

The den sure was getting crowded now that the new pups had arrived. There were four of them -- it was quite a den-full. Charon was considering getting his own den, not only because of the new arrivals, but also because he wanted to prove that he was mature enough to be on his own, mature enough to be a good defender of Stavanger Bay and good enough to lead the pack alongside Thistle Cloud, like he had told her he would be. It was time to grow up, even though he still longed for the attention of his foster parents, the ones that had raised him.

As things were ,though, Charon still slept in Thistle and Ragnar's den. He wasn't too sure what to think of the pups; they were noisy and loud, next to taking up a lot of space -- not because they were big, but because they crawled all over the place -- and had little regard for his personal space too.

Charon awoke from the cries of one of the pups in particular. "Sounds like Ragna again," Charon muttered grouchily as he awoke from a far too short nap at the frays of the den, near the entrance. Ragna was the only girl, which is pretty much how he could tell her apart from the others, for at this stage they all looked alike muchly. He crawled over to the pups and prodded Ragna's side, hoping that would shut her up. He wasn't sure what she wanted, but if it was attention it was something he could fix.

Ragna reveled in the warmth of the den, still finding the air of the outside world wanting in comparison to the long forgotten womb. Instinctively, she sought out physical touches and warmth, drawn to her siblings and parents like metal to magnets. Even without the promise of food, contact was welcomed.

Still, she would quite like some food.

Charon's touch settled her for a moment, his nose to her side a distraction from her scattered train of thought. No longer was she solely bent on food, and soon her whim might redirect itself. She cried out again, unsure of what she wanted herself, only knowing that she wanted.

Crashing the party :P

Flóki usually slept, and when he awoke, he ate. If he was feeling adventurous, he rolled on the den floor, clambered over his siblings, screeched as loud as he could, crawled around the den. Occasionally he bumped into a larger figure, such as the older inhabitants in the den. His father, mother, their older siblings. And obviously, without regard for their personal space, clambered on them. Sometimes he tried suckling on them when he was hungry, but except for his mother, they gave him no milk. Which sometimes annoyed the baby viking, but usually just got him to sleep once more.

Today, Floki awoke for no particular reason and began the day by screaming at the top of his lungs, probably even louder than his older sister. He wanted to eat and sleep at the same time which made the babe conflicted which simply resulted in more screaming and pushing at his siblings.

As if Ragna's surprisingly loud -- for a pup so tiny -- cries weren't bad enough, another of the pups awoke and started to scream. Charon grunted as he heard the second pup starting to cry. Ragna had been quiet for a little while, but it seemed that 'a little while' was all Charon was going to get when it came to quietness. His ears flattened as he was surrounded by the two screeching pups.

Though he was a bit too old for such childish play, Charon decided that since he obviously couldn't beat them, or get them quiet in any other way, the only wise choice was to join them. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWGH!" Charon shouted loudly, joining the two pups in their chorus of complaint. "See? How do you like it when someone's screaming in your face?" he tutted, though the pups could not hear.

Noise assaulted her ear drums, not much more than unintelligible vibrations to her, but noise all the same. The offensive volume was more upsetting than any other of her woes, and though she quieted, shying away from the sound, she began to cry out even louder. Something, she knew intrinsically, for she didn't think or know very much, would save her if she made enough noise. Something would ward away the nebulous threat and bring her somewhere warm and comfortable. Maybe there would even be food!

Galvanized by that rosy prospect, Ragna began to cry all the louder, squealing as though tomorrow wasn't a thing.

Suddenly, noise touched his ears and though he really could hear barely nothing, Floki was rather annoyed about it. Because when he screamed, no one else was allowed to scream, he was the prince after all, the prince of the den. So naturally, the trickster opened his jaws once more and began screeching, louder than before, surely making poor Charon's eardrums burst, after all two pups were screaming at the sametime. However, this time Floki only yelled for a couple of minutes before quieting.

He was hungry after all, and he wanted food, so he began nudging around, trying to locate the source of milk that would feed him.

Unfortunately, Charon's scheme didn't have the desired effect at all. The only thing that happened was that the children began to scream even louder! "Nooo Ragna and blob-number-two, STOP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Charon shouted (whatever, they were too tiny to understand what he was saying anyway, and he'd checked to make sure that Thistle, Ragnar or Gunnar weren't nearby). He wasn't quite sure which the other one was -- one of the males, but they were hard to tell apart at this age -- so 'blob-number-two' would have to do for now, as long as he could remember which blob was which...

Ragna screamed and screamed, but luckily blob-number-two stopped eventually and started to squirm around, presumably looking for either food or adventure, as those were the two things in life pups looked for... Besides screaming. "You should take an example in your brother, Ragna," Charon said, a little quieter this time. Since yelling at Ragna hadn't worked so far, Charon decided to try another approach. While keeping an eye on the awake male pup, Charon wrapped one of his paws around Ragna, enveloping her sides in body warmth, and pressed his nose against her body to nuzzle her.

As it was, Ragna had two options. She could quiet down and give them all some peace, or she could continue shrilling like tomorrow wasn't a thing. An adult, rational wolf would, most likely, pick the first. At this moment in time, though, Ragna was exactly none of those things. So, despite her poor brother's insistence, she continued squealing fit to raise the dead.

Until a voice began to speak on a frequency that was soothing to her ears. It was a gentler, lower sound that lulled her into complacent silence. More or less silent. Sounds still bubbled unbidden from her throat as she struggled forth on clumsy legs, unsure of her destination.

i'll finish this since Flóki is adoptable again! would love another more recent thread sometime <3

Finally, something that worked. Charon let out a sigh of relief when Ragna quieted down a little, closing his eyes briefly to enjoy the near-silence in the den at the moment. Who knew that raising pups was this much work?! Charon sure hadn't anticipated it. He bet he was a lot nicer when he was young, not like loud-mouth Ragna. Still, she was kind of cute, all tiny and defenseless, even if she was loud too.

"That's better," Charon mumbled, and he watched Ragna as she wobbled forward, watching her and making sure she didn't do anything too silly while he rested his head on his paws.

Ohhhh yes please!

Soon her short journey tired her out, and her tromping came to a close. With a drawn-out yawn she struggled forward towards the closest source of warmth- Charon in this case- and settled down nearby. Slipping into dreamless sleep was easy, and soon she was taking even, steady breaths while the day tumbled on. And later, well rested from her nap, she would resume her task of terrorizing any who stepped foot in the den.