Sawtooth Spire nyceteris

family only! day five, babies can start using their back legs!

 

The mother slept as sound as she could. The woman perpetually slept with one eye open in case something went amiss–today, for instance. 

There was a strange sound in the den. Tonravik lurched upward, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her cubs were asleep, all bundled together; they fought less, having selected designated spots blindly. All accounted for, she looked in the direction the sound came from; a nearby crevice, where a garter snake slithered toward them. Whether or not it was a threat, she would not risk the chance; the leader rose, hovering over her cubs. When it was close enough, she lurched toward it, fangs gripping its midsection as it sought to escape. The attempt was in vain; her fangs bit clean through it. 

It writhed for a moment longer, and the woman thought it may still be alive; she withdrew a foreleg as its head came near, and she bore down upon that, too. The leader had plenty of experience with snakes, and typically left them well enough alone as they could be more trouble than they were worth. Many were poisonous. She sniffed at this one, bristling... But, she could smell no venom. 

Disgruntled, the leader sniffed now at the corners of the den, leaving the dead body be. The hind of the snake still curled and unfurled, as mere seconds had passed... And then it was motionless. Detecting nothing else, the mother returned to the snake, glancing at her cubs as she moved to gobble it down. The dead attracted other predators, and she knew her mate would dispatch of them... But she took no unnecessary risks.

Malrok's life continued much the way it had since the day he was born. He woke, he ate, he fussed, he slept. Every day, though, he grew stronger. Up until this point, he had only really been able to use his front legs to drag him along. Now, though, he had discovered that his back legs could propel him along faster. And what a discovery that was! There was commotion that awoke him, sending him rolling onto his back, legs flailing somewhat less uselessly than they had in the past. Instead of crying, as he so often did, Malrok managed to flip himself back over using his legs like a pendulum. Then, the second-born began to nose one of his three brothers right in the ribs.

of course other babu's are always welcome in any of my threads @ any point :')

Tonravik watched as one cub—the second-born, she discerned—fell to his back. Her ears perked forward, knowing that if he could not right himself he would wail until she aided him. Still the mother waited, waiting for that point, wondering if anything had changed about the parasitic things now that some days had passed. Her head lowered squarely between her shoulders, the apex of the shoulderbones jutting outward to make her look vulture-esque as she observed, licking her chops. Observant, she noted the twitching of his rear-legs... that was new. Tonravik remained still, waiting for the cry... and it was then Malrok rolled over independently, without a sound. The mother was quick to come toward her children then, staring at them... eyes closed, still, and ears looking ever the same to her. Although the others slept, the mother rudely roused them each by flipping them over onto their backs. Malrok was included in this; she wondered if it was a fluke, and so she needed to see it done again.

Omg momma you are so mean! :P

No sooner had he started to annoy one of his brothers was he flipped over onto his back again. This time, though, the boy wailed instead of remaining completely silent. Even so, instinct took over and he swung his legs again, rolling away from—rather than toward—his siblings this time around. His still-closed eyes could not discern this difference, of course, though his sense of smell was growing stronger and making things easier. At least he had a decent sense of touch!

The boy began to pull and push himself forward, further away from his family and closer to the den's entrance. After a few struggling pushes, he stopped, bobbed his head up and down, and began to cry. He had been away from them for too long, instinct told him, and since he had no way to know that they were behind, rather than ahead, he could not even turn the right way.

ROFL, WORST MOM

The mother watched as each cub moved accordingly. She nearly missed Malrok who had escaped the bunch. When she noted his absence, the mother grunted and moved to grab him and bring him back to his brothers. First she was fascinated... and now, she knew she would have to be more attentive lest they somehow successfully escape. The initial part of their survival was largely on her; she, herself, would have to be smart. And so, the mother, after having returned Malrok to her clutch, turned so that her body was toward the mouth of the den before laying. This small victory felt like a large one, and her tail beat against the stone floor.

He went limp when the mother entity picked him up, and Malrok's squeaking ceased. Contentment washed over him again, and happiness rushed through his veins. Reunited with his brothers, Malrok climbed over top of them for no reason other than he could. It was easier now than it had been in the past, though he could not have known that. Being as young as he was, Malrok knew only the present.

Presently, he sought a comfortable spot where he might rest. All that moving around had exhausted him.

*invades!*

By now, he had learned that he need not be concerned with the fussing and stirring of his siblings, although there were times that he roused with them and would seemingly seek to soothe them by nudging them or crawling on top of them. Now was not one of those times, but his mother put a stop to his rest by flipping him on to his back. In an instant, he was jarred awake and this abrupt awakening was accompanied by a sharp squeak.

In the next instant, he had righted himself in one surprisingly fluid motion, as though he had practiced the technique to do so hundreds of times before. Perhaps it was a fluke, a flailing limb placed just the right way to tip him back onto his belly. Or, perhaps he had just demonstrated a gift of quick grace.

Unlike his siblings, Sitamat was not all that coordinated yet. Even with the use of his hind legs, which had grown stronger now, he still had trouble righting himself as their mother nosed each of them onto their backs. He grunted and squeaked in annoyance from being awoken from his nap so rudely, rocking back and forth as he flailed his limbs in the air. He only paused when Tonravik moved to block the den entrance, distracted by the movement, before resuming his helpless wriggling.

Whether her sons move was graceful or not she did not know; she knew nothing of grace, not being graceful herself. Nor did she appreciate the prettiness of anything. Things were what they were. Tonravik only saw his success, and licked her chops as she looked to @Atuaserk and then, Sitamat. The large, last-born struggled, legs flailing. Tonravik did not feel the desire to help him in the slightest. He would need to work with his large body as best as he could... and the new mother hardly thought of the fact that he could need her then and there to assist. If his brothers could do it, he could do it. And he would lay on that damn back and go hungry up until he did. The militant mother continued to watch him, and watched as the second born deterred the first born in climbing atop him. Tonravik was swift to move him aside, next to the successful Pingasut.

Malrok rested, but only for a time. He caught his breath, and then he went right back to exploring, all four legs pushing him along the dirt floor. Unintentionally, he nosed into Sitamat, whose legs flailed and bopped him on the nose. Malrok sneezed, but was too curious about the movement to retreat. He continued to poke at his brother with his pugged nose. They had interacted thousands of times at this point, and yet Malrok was still curious. Why all the movement?

In time he would either prove it had been a fluke or that he was indeed a graceful creature, in contrast to his bearish mother whom moved the world and did not move for it. For a few minutes, he did nothing, as if indecisive about what he wanted to do. Then he stood, took a step toward the commotion he sensed among his siblings, and then just as quick turned back to his mother and located a teat. Hunger had won out over whatever bit of his nature and instincts had started to pull him to his brothers. His mouth closed around a nipple, and he suckled.

I AM HERE

He was probably one of the fatter potatoes. Eventually, he'd grow off his chubbiness and trade it in for sheer size but the boy was currently struggling to get off his back and out of the position his dearest mother had put him in. It was a process, using his legs to roll back and forth, though he couldn't quite get over on to his stomach. He would get there, because if he was developing any trait, it was that he was stubborn. This could be translated to be determination but nevertheless, he kept trying.

He could almost get there, almost. With a mewl of frustration, Atuaserk rolled again and... and success! He was officially off of his back. Take that, mom!

His siblings all won the challenge through sheer effort and determination. Meanwhile, Sitamat's more lazy side won out and his rocking quickly turned into a more half-hearted flail. The movement was making him hungry. Despite this however, the boy couldn't find it in himself to make it onto his back so he could feed his insatiable self. He squeaked helplessly, unaware that his mother was watching, but did not care. He would soon learn that the Tartok life was a harsh one — this was only the first lesson.

When Malrok crawled closer to inspect, Sitamat's hind leg managed to find his side. Using his brother as leverage, the last born kicked off roughly and rolled onto his stomach, stubby tail wiggling happily with his apparent success.

Well, they had each done it. Another step forward. More progress. Some fast, some slow... but all had succeeded, in the end. Her children, persistent already. Tonravik had deduced that from their consistent wails alone when hungry or bothered... but this? This was different. What would come next? The fox-boy drank, Malrok had squirmed to Sitamat (and had aided him, unknown to her and him both), and Atuaserk stood uncertainly. None of the babes were sure-footed or had strong-legs, yet... but they would. Content with how things had turned out, she let them be and rest her head.

Well that had been different. He lay there, unsure of what to do now that he was standing. He rather liked having his belly against the floor again but he was yet immobile, waiting for some kind of... something. He didn't know what, instead peering around at his brothers to see what they were up to. They were settled close to the mother unit and deciding that this was a good idea, he crawled towards the others now.

I think the posting order got a lil' whack. ;)
Last one for me!

He was kicked roughly in the side. Well, as roughly as a puppy was able to kick. Malrok squeaked, but quickly recovered, going back in for more. He did so enjoy interacting with his siblings. Eventually, though, Malrok tired, and settled in for a long nap. Even with all the hustle and bustle going on around him, he managed to find a nice, quiet place to snuggle in with his family and drift off into a deep slumber. All this rolling around had been a lot of hard work!

last for me!

He suckled contentedly until his creamy white belly had distended with fullness. He hiccuped, and hiccuped several more times after, as he crawled among his brothers before he fell into a natural, furry crevice made between two of them, and here he stayed. Surrounded by their warmth and the comfort he took in the press of their bodies against his own, he snuggled in and soon fell asleep.

Final one! :D

He remained lying on his stomach unsteadily after successfully rolling back onto it, testing out his legs as he struggled to remain upright. It was a new, strange feeling, and Sitamat wasn't sure if he liked it or not. Like the first born, the boy seemed uncertain of what to do now, his oversized head wobbling as he tried to keep it from falling. Gravity won out in the end, and the last born eventually tiredly crawled his way to his other siblings, nosing his way in between two and latching onto a teat where he would suckle until he joined the rest in contented sleep.

Getting one last post in here so @Tonravik can close it!

His crawling ended with him shoving himself next to a sibling, mouth groping for the source of his food. Only when he found it did he finally settle down, mostly unfazed by the events that had taken place. He hadn't particularly enjoyed the experience, though in time, he would learn to right himself much more quickly, making it quite the moot point. All of that would happen soon enough but for now, food and sleep were his tried and true goals, suckling until he had his fill before settling down to sleep the time away once more.