let's go to the hills, where the outlines are clear

Another one for babies - it's day 10 on Sunday, so if you want to play out the eye-opening stage this weekend, you can jump in here if you have no other plans..! :D @Pasha @Swift @Whittier @Allure II

The pups were growing as quickly as their mother was shrinking. Despite having a pack at her disposal to hunt all manner of meat, Bazi was nearly always hungry.

She had just finished a morsel from one such generous subordinate. The meat had stained her paws, but it didn't matter - she spent most of her time eating what came out of her children's arses, and could scarcely remember what it was like to be truly clean. Until the pups could fend for themselves - or, you know, see; that would be a good start - cleanliness would have to be second to godliness and baby-rearing.

Only bones and a few strips of sinew remained from her meal. Bazi held it over her children's heads, and waited to see what they would do. Her first experiment with meat had yielded success, and she saw no harm in allowing her children to lick at the scraps of tissue still clinging to the bone.

Whit had been dozing soundly in his favorite spot, with his stubby muzzle snuggled in his mama's arm pit. Despite the fact that she'd been busily tearing into her meal which meant a number of gentle knocks in the head from an elbow, the husky boy hadn't had any problem slipping off to dreamland. He had a fully belly and a warm place to stuff his head--who could resist a nap in those kinds of conditions?

It wasn't until Bazi shifted away from him that Whit awoke. Confused and still half asleep, he looked around blearily before his muzzle split open in a wide yawn. With a thrust of his limbs, he rolled over onto his side and nudged himself backwards until he was nestled against the squishy wall again. The scent of meat was rather tempting to his nostrils, but Whit wasn't quite ready to be awake yet. Not even the fact that he'd just opened his eyes for the first time was going to move him, especially since it had only been for like a second and he didn't actually know what food looked like, 'cause otherwise he'd have been up and running for it.

Her children showed little interest in the prize. Whittier opened his eyes for a split second, stared, but ultimately rolled over to steal another few minutes hours of sleep.

It took Bazi several long seconds to realize what had happened.

"Whit!" she gasped when the anomaly finally presented itself to her conscious mind. Bazi dropped the bone and nosed her son's face, eager to get a better look at his baby blues (unless her children had somehow turned out wrong, and their eyes were red - you never knew). "Wake up, baby boy - show mommy your brand new eyes."

Still deaf to the world (which would have been figurative even though in this stage it was still literal), Whit had every intention of snoozing on when he was rudely awakened by a prod to his face. The boy awoke again with a jolt and a squeak, kicking his legs at the air. Though he was ill-inclined to do anything to please the mom that had so rudely awoken him, his lids peeled back yet again as he struggled onto his stomach. He bobbed his head back and forth, searching for the offending mommy-face so that he could gum it into submission and get back to sleep.

It was then that Whit discovered a scent that he actually did find quite intriguing. Wriggling away, he pivoted his body in search of the bone that Bazi had abandoned. Instinctively, he knew that it was likely something that he could eat. Of course, he thought that about everything he encountered, but at least this time he was right.

For once, Whittier complied. Bazi's grin nearly severed the top of her head when she saw his bleary blue eyes, and her heart skipped a beat when it became apparent that not only was this a momentous day for sight - it was also one of the few times Whittier showed an interest in something that wasn't tit, or sleep. "Go get it," she encouraged, breathy with excitement, and shuffled back to see what her son would do.

Whit had no idea what his mother was so excited about, nor was he really aware that she even was excited. All he really knew was that there was a thing in this den and he wanted his mouth on it (don't be gross, people). Unaware that he was responding to his mother's encouragement, Whit scrambled eagerly forward to explore the owner of that tantalizing scent.

Though his hustle was admirable, his aim was not quite so much. Blinking at this bleary world of light and dark, but mostly dark, Whit spun his head from one side to the next, sniffling at the air to try and find the bone he so desperately sought. His wriggling had actually brought him quite close to the bone, however he'd ended up woefully east of where he should have been, and it was in that same direction he still leaned now as he tasted the air with his nose and tongue. A turn of his head to the left would have set him again on the right path, but he hadn't quite figured that out yet - instead lifting his right paw to reach out at the nothingness just before him so that he could get mad at how it was empty air instead of being his goddamn bone.

Nope.

Once again, Whittier was taking the long way round to success. He would get there eventually; he was slow, not hopeless, although sometimes Bazi did wonder. She tutted under her breath, giving Whittier's porky little body a gentle nudge with the side of her muzzle. "Go on now," she urged when he was pointing in more or less the right direction. Bazi sat back to watch, feeling oddly anxious.

If all else failed, she thought, perhaps Whittier would be able to fall back on his charms. His mother had no doubt that the sweet, fat little face that he used to control her would translate well into adulthood - he would attract a sweet, obedient girl and do his duty as a wolf.

Or he would roll onto his back one day and simply die like that. At that point, it was 50/50.

Whit gave a little rumble of a growl as frustration began to overcome him. He knew his prize was there somewhere, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out where. He felt his mother lean down to point him in the right direction and he squeaked appreciatively before swinging his arms like windmills to propel him forward.

With his mouth gaping and pink tongue waggling, he tasted the air for the scent of his bone. It was so close now, he could almost feel it. Well, he actually could literally feel it as it had just pulled himself right up on top of it. He stopped and swung his head about, sniffling and sniffling until finally he pointed his muzzle towards the floor and bumped his face right into the bone's knobby edge. With a squeak of pleasure, he threw his jaws around it and began to suckle greedily, his tail wagging excitedly as the unusual but pleasant flavor filled his mouth.