Nova Peak must gnaw

Mom perhaps? ;) But any family welcome! Edit: because apparently I had originally tagged this as an aggressive spar rofl

Not only was the littlest Frostfur improving in strength, sight and smell, but his hearing too was becoming clearer. He was more alert to the sounds of life both inside the den and outside the den. He was an exceptionally curious sort and on several occasions had tried to make his way out to inspect a new sound or new scent, only to be thwarted by his guardians each time, be it his mother, father, or a dutiful pack member. It was just as well, his still developing mind was quick to forget what he had even been curious about, which was just the case this morning.

Swift had woke to the sound of some bird chirping outside the den, and with his hackles (sort of) raised he had started a march for the entrance, only to be plucked back by @Bazi which promptly caused the bird to fall from his attention. He turned to his mother's paw then, and commenced chewing. With the eruption of milk incisors and the start of his canines and premolars coming in, his urge to chew had become more prevalent and nothing was safe if he could reach it.

Within no time at all, her children had evolved from fuzzy potatoes into highly mobile, impressively evasive little shits ninjas. Bazi, following suit, had become an expert at herding cats. She retrieved Swift with one eye still closed whilst also blocking Pasha's path with a hind leg. Only Allure snoozed peacefully, curled up among the fuzz of her mother's tail. The Alpha paused to watch her little girl, unaware that her son was about to sink his teeth into her foot.

"Ow!" the mother snarled softly, whipping back around to glare - but only for a second. Swift wasn't gnawing out of malice - he was growing, learning to use the tools of his trade. Wincing, Bazi raised her paw off the ground, pup attached, and shook it lightly.

Swift was developing a stubbornness, but his jaws had not yet grown enough to match, and so while he would have preferred to hang onto his mother's paw and dangle from it like a furry parasite, he was unable to and fell to the den floor. He landed on his arse with a bark of protest. He stared indignantly at his mother for a moment, then turned and marched for the den entrance. At their current age the pups were ready to start seeing the outdoor world, and Bazi was about to learn that Swift would quickly become hard to contain.

His steps were slow at first, and then he summoned on his strength and his newfound mobility now that he could hold his belly off the floor, and booted it. Swift made good on his name in that moment, and disappeared around the corner before his mother could blink. As if guided by some unknown force, he jetted straight toward a young alder that had sprung up near the den. He immediately latched on, and growled as he fought to tear a strip of bark.

Scimitar rounded upon the den – a plump hare in jaws – when his eyes fell upon a silver form darting from the mouth of the den and to a tree. Almost choking at how quickly the little devil moved, a frown pulled at the cinnamon Alpha’s features as his pace quickened, dropping the hare aside as he closed the distance between the two.
 
A low growl seeped past his lips – one of reprimand, though he doubted it would do little to the escape artist. Finally coming upon the boy, who was rearranging the face of a tree, Scimitar bent his muzzle down and made to grab the boy upon the back of his nape – fully intent to deliver him back to the den, if only because he did not want Swift to be rewarded by remaining outside after the stunt.

Before Bazi could figure out what had happened, Swift was gone. She had become so accustomed to sloth-like movement that the very idea of catching anything faster than drugged snake seemed impossible - but it seemed she would have to re-learn that skill, and fast.

She exited to find the escapee attacking the landscape, but Scimitar had the situation under control. He issued a warning, detaching the boy from his prize. Bazi smiled triumphantly at him - it was not often that she 'won' against her children any more. "They never do anything I tell them," she complained, eyeing Swift's darkening dorsal ridge. It was becoming clear that the thing wasn't temporary, and the sight of it made her feel a little queasy. "Why don't you put him inside and invite him out. He needs exercise, otherwise I'll have to deal with that later."

He did not know it (or did not know he knew it...) but he bark of an alder tree soothes toothaches, which Swift and his siblings had their share of as their teeth grew in. When he latched onto the sapling, he did not maul for the sake of mauling, he instead worked with purpose to tear a strip that he could chew on. He heard the growl of his father as the king rounded the den, but he either ignored it or did not register it as meaning anything; it was hard to say with the stubborn Swift. As Scimitar's jaws closed on his nape and pulled him free, a small strip came with him, which he held as tight as his developing muscles could. He growled quietly, annoyed - of course.

His ears flickered in response to Bazi – acknowledging what she had to say with silent agreement. He did not know what he would do without her—the wish for four puppies had been the dream for them prior.. but now, Scimitar was not sure either parent would survive. Swift let loose a low growl, muffled by the strip of bark in his mouth, and the Alpha returned his own – a gentle rumble that dared the boy to continue to try him as he moved to the mouth of the den.
 
Rigid, he gently let Swift down further in to the den entrance, pausing for a moment as he waited to see if the boy would still, his own large form attempting to make a barrier between the entrance and the open stretch of land before him. If quiet for a few stolen moments, the parents would then invite their son out.. and let him unleash his energy that he so seemed to be bursting with.

oops posted out of turn but I think it makes sense anyway LOL <3

Something about the deep rumble of his father caused Swift's growl to stop, but his little ears flattened to his skull and stayed that way. He was placed in the den, with his father blocking the door and his mother where she was when he had left her. His mouth was drawn in a tight line. It could not be more obvious that he was not impressed. His business had been interrupted and that would not do for the little Frostfur. But then he remembered, he had been successful on whatever strange mission he had been on. He chewed on the strip of bark that he had still clasped between his teeth, and the tension that had formed in his annoyed body slackened. The dull throb of in his teeth had lessened too though he was not able to put two and two together and understand what he had done, or why. He just knew he felt better and that was that. He spat the bark onto the den floor and disregarded it.

He turned toward his father, and padded close, bumping a strong foreleg with his head. He looked up at the mountain king, and rose on his hind legs in an attempt to get nearer to his face. But he was  clumsy, and soon toppled back on his arse with a small squeak.

It was unfortunate for the boy that his father knew nothing about the art of remedies and herbs. Paarthurnax had been their best healer, and she was long gone now – a thought that still hurt him to this day. Swift was tenacious at best, and the pale boy would spit the bark from his mouth, his ears splayed back and his mouth in a taut line.
 
Scimitar’s eyes were stern as they remained upon the youth, and as if the previous moments forgotten, Swift attempted to lift up and reach his face, though falling to his side in the process. The cinnamon wolf bent his muzzle down, nosing the boy with affection – all previous discipline fading.
 
As Swift seemingly settled, Scimitar followed his mate’s sage advice, and with another nudge, the Alpha sidestepped then, his muzzle nodding to the outdoors from the den entrance. “Why don’t you come out now, smallteeth,” he rumbled with arched brows, hoping their exuberant child understood the difference between being allowed outside of the den versus not.

His father's affectionate touch was received well, and crooned happily, his tail wagging. He did not understand the words his father spoke, but body language was something he knew by instinct and what he was not born with he learned quicker than he would learn words. Scimitar's nod to the outdoors was all his little boy needed. Swift showed his eagerness as he bounded toward the den door and made his way past his father. Then he spun to face the cinnamon patriarch with a playful yip and slipped into a play bow with a small growl.

His eyes would slide to Bazi momentarily as she fell to quiet – likely reveling in the fact that for a stolen moment, she was not the one responsible for the wild child. Swift swept past him with credit to his name, and as the boy elicited a yip and spin, Scimitar’s amusement found him once more.
 
As the boy fell to the stance of a play bow, Scimitar’s much larger body mimicked him instantly. His creamy forepaws swatted at the ground to lure the boy forward, his jaws loosely open. If Swift desired to play, the cinnamon regal was of no heart to say no – and he spoke this with the quiet swish of his tail as it wagged through the air in encouragement.

His father mirrored him, entering a play bow of his own and drumming the ground to goad his son. Swift dropped his chin to the ground, eyes narrowed as his tail swung to and fro and his rump swayed from the momentum. He stayed like this for a few moments, as if daring the patriarch to make the first move, but then he took it for himself. With a ferocious (not really) snarl he lunged for his father, intending to pounce right on his face and capture the man's muzzle between his paws and teeth.

It was a show off of sorts for a stolen moment – both regarded one another through cool ocean eyes, and finally, his ivory son launched. His momentum was impressive for his age, but truly, Scimitar had yet to see a pup that was not decent at play.
 
Swift was named properly, and the boy quickly grabbed at his muzzle with sharp baby teeth and paws – he certainly wouldn’t miss those sharp suckers when his adult teeth came in. Lifting his paw, Scimitar made to swat at his son just as his own jaws lifted to nip at Swift’s ears.

He was right on target, grasping his father's muzzle with a triumphant bark. He nommed that snout until Scimitar gave him a playful swat and dislodged him, making a move for the littlest Frostfur's ear at the same time. Swift yipped, shaking his head and darting out of way of his father's nips. With another growl he jumped back in, this time going for the mountain king's paws with fast nips of his own.

Some PP, can change if wanted! Thought maybe we should wrap this up?

His son was a whirlwind, and the regal laughed as the boy was fast upon him. He would roughhouse with the boy until fatigue would take his pale son – and only then would he potentially manage to lure the boy to settle upon the grass rather calmly. Shifting, the male prowled back to the tree his son had attacked earlier, and stripping off a piece of bark, he moved back to the boy, dropping it in front of him. He did not know of the medicinal values, but chewing always seemed to aide teething puppies.
 
With this, his eyes would drift around to search out Bazi, who had snuck off for some peace and quiet. Settling down, the father sprawled near his son, encouraging him to gnaw upon the piece of bark and still playfully nipped at him from time to time.

All good! Last for me :)

The small Frostfur sprawled on the grass, spent from his horseplay, but yet too restless to sleep. His father, however, had the answer. He returned from the alder tree with another strip of bark for the boy, who immediately grabbed it and began to chew contentedly. He chewed, and chewed, occasionally barking or returning of his father's nips, until the movement of his jaws slowed as he drifted into sleep, the strip of bark still grasped in his mouth.

The two lazed the time away over the next few hours. Bazi took a break, spending time with the other children, or even slipping away for some time to herself. Swift chewed the bark like it was a meal – and the father continued to play with him from one stolen moment to the next. Finally, the boy’s energy finally drained, and with a piece of bark still in his mouth.
 
Scimitar lowered his own muzzle down, his form protective as it angled to encircle his son slightly – and together, the two napped.