Sawtooth Spire Harvey Two-Face

@Sitamat 

Typically when she rose, so too did the babes. They were obedient enough now to not sprint off without being accompanied. None yet had tried, but would earn a swift reprimanding for it. The alpha female had been awake and had plans today to add to the caches. She checked which needed restocking, and then went to retrieve a cub. She thought first of the one who so loved eating–and it was decided. 

Returning to the den, she scanned the mouth. The babes were never alone, and weren't now, either. She would leave the rest to the one with them now, and would take them on their own independent field trips later. “Sitamat,” Tonravik summoned, waiting.

YAY

For once, he wasn't asleep. Instead, Sitamat absent-mindedly chewed upon a twig he had brought in as a souvenir from the world outside the den. It didn't taste as great as the regurgitated meat his parents presented him with, nor his mother's milk, but it kept the tubby boy occupied. Once or twice, one of his brothers tried to steal it from him, which Sitamat quickly protested against with a possessive grumble.

He had been almost halfway down the now sodden, splintered twig when Tonravik called from the entrance. He looked up, both confused and conflicted. Sitamat. That was his name. Why didn't she call for the others, like they usually did? Unsurely, the youngest got to his feet, casting his siblings a fearful glance before slowly waddling up to where his mother stood waiting. He greeted her with respectfully folded back ears but an eagerly wiggling tail, coming to an obedient sit before her beastly form.

He came, and Tonravik was appeased by his manner of approaching. She sniffed at him before she turned and began to trot off some. Of them all, she knew this cub of hers was the most resistant to productivity... But she sought to change it, knowing of his primary interest beyond his family: food. If he wanted for it, he one day would need to contribute to have it. Time flew; it was only yesterday they were blind, deaf, and dumb.

The mother stopped to look over her shoulder and gesture at her side. She was not so patient as their father, nor as kind when they did not do as they bid. As their minds developed, she wanted them to know that they were in charge... And were not to be ignored. Thus far, they seemed to understand that much without need for reprimand. Her tail waved invitingly.

They were currently in the time of learning right from wrong and what to do versus what not to do — and usually when they were called by name it meant they had done a bad thing. Tonravik's tail waved and her generally visage was calm and collected, and Sitamat looked to her with confusion. It seemed he wasn't in trouble. He took a couple of timid steps before bounding the the rest of the way over to her side as she gestured to him.

He glanced back to the den, then, waiting for the rest of his siblings to join him for their trip outside, oblivious to the fact that this was a special trip.

Her cub soon came to her in leaps and bounds. As he looked back to the den, she shook her head. None would be there but the two of them this crisp autumn evening. Tonravik turned to a path not yet traveled by her cubs, and began to sniff at the earth. The Gamekeeper scented something already, and glanced to her son. The alpha female by then knew to be sure her son kept by her. 

And now, she nosed him into the spot beneath her nose. She sniffed at the earth again, and her ears perked forward as she observed. Scent trails often confused the boys, who could not yet follow just one... But her son would watch and learn, and one day would do as she did. This was not the last gamekeeping trip she would take him on.

The shake of her head just confused the boy more, and he looked from her to the den and back again a couple of times before she began to move off. Puzzled as he was, Sitamat followed, tilting his head curiously as he did so. By now, he knew most of the area immediately outside the den, but his world was very limited so far. The path his mother took him on today was new. His steps were unsure as he trundled beside the much larger wolf with ears clearly displaying his nerves.

Suddenly, she looked to him, before moving him to where she had just sniffed. Sitamat stared up at his mother as if he asking what she wanted him to do, before he mimicked her movements. Oh. Scents flooded his nose as it gently prodded at the ground. The smell of Tonravik and Iqniq were the strongest, mingled with others both vaguely familiar and completely foreign. The trails criss-crossed and weaved and the cub followed one for a few steps before suddenly changing direction as he locked onto a new one. He glanced back at his mother, eyes wide with excitement.

As he zigzagged around, Tonravik stood still and observed. None of the scents were predatory or something to worry over. The entirety of the pack contributed to the poaching of anything that might, and a cautionary sniff had revealed to her that all was still well. He seemed to lock onto something, and as she sniffed at where he stood after stepping up to him, her tail waved. Good. Whether it was chance or he had the nose of his mother and grandmother, they would find out.

Tonravik continued forward, her stride one to accommodate her sons size. On the earth was the pebble-sized scat one rabbit had left in its wake... and she gestured to the telltale sign with a wave of her tail. She sniffed over it and her whiskers twitched, and her eyes looked to her son instead of the direction they would need to travel for the rabbit warren that was a short distance away.

He wiggled his tail again as she came over to where he stood and sniffed at the ground there. The wave of her own tail was a sign of approval, and Sitamat accepted that this was what his mother wanted him to do. With an eager chuff, the boy set off along the trail, before getting side-tracked by another, stronger one. He made to follow that one before Tonravik's find of rabbit droppings seized his attention.

Curious, he copied his mother as she nosed at it, giving it an added lick before he drew back in disgust. Definitely not food. With his features still crumpled, he turned his gaze back up to the Alpha, only to find her looking at him. He blinked, before dropping his nose to the ground again to search for a trail again, remembering that gained her approval before. He weaved ahead of her, finding the rabbit's trail, though followed it only a short way before another had overlapped it and he began to head off-course.

Tonravik did nothing to stop the cub from trying to eat a pellet... he would learn better, that way, that this was not food. As he withdrew, Tonravik licked her chops and waited. He looked to her, and she looked to him, and something seemed to click for the boy. He sniffed again, and went after the scent-trail. Tonravik was pleased by this, and sniffed lazily after him to check his course... and he was soon distracted by something else. This something else was the trail of a pack-mate, and Tonravik whuffed again to get his attention back to her.

She took to the trail, checking to be sure Sitamat was following. They were close now, and Tonravik's gaze panned to their surroundings to see if any rabbit lurked outside their home that would make for an "easy" catch.

The scent he followed now was stronger, more prominent than the other one — familiar, too, in a way. He slowed as he padded along it, before coming to a complete halt and staring hard at the dirt in confusion. This was not the right trail. Tonravik quickly redirected him back on course with a soft sound and Sitamat spun to follow her again.

He weaved between her legs as they walked, nose to the ground as he mirrored his mother's actions. When she stopped to survey the area, the boy did so too, stubby ears perked as high as they could go as he stood and watched. The odd, almost tantalising smell lingered heavily here, though he couldn't quite figure out what exactly he was smelling. He looked once again up to Tonravik with a quiet, questioning, "buh?"

Tonravik's ears pricked, listening for any sound of movement by the prey they sought. Firstly, she heard a questioning tone, and Tonravik looked to him, mute for a moment. In a way, she understood the question as any parent might understand one they knew from the moment they entered the earth. "Wagnilerit, k'yush," came her quiet voice, her command simple as she looked to him, keep quiet. She reached gingerly for an ear to hold without force between her teeth for a moment, to indicate the body part, and spoke again now (and if she successfully held the ear, she would release it): "Tussarpok..." listen. Her ears swiveled forward as she turned toward the warren again, then sweeps her muzzle over his eyes and instructs, "Taku." Look.

And she was quiet. Tonravik knew patience was no strong suit of cubs, but fortunately, there was no need. For a rabbit unwittingly came upon the scene, and Tonravik quivered in place but looked firstly to her son. What would he do? It occurred to her belatedly he might ruin the success she would otherwise have in this particular hunt, but she would not go away with an empty mouth.

Her mutter of words were nothing but nonsense to the boy, but the swift, gentle nip to his ear got across her meaning well enough. He ducked, though was too slow and felt her teeth graze one of his tiny ears. He shook his head as she released it, looking up as she spoke again. He kept quiet, allowing her to direct his gaze towards the warren. He almost reached up to lick the side of her mouth as she lowered her muzzle near him, but was distracted by sudden movement before them.

A creature, small and brown, appeared. Sitamat stared hard at it, taking a few moments to realise it was not Atuaserk. The first born was large, but not that large. And the ears were all wrong. He gave his mother a puzzled glance before taking a cautious step forward. The back of his neck prickled, and the boy gave a soft bark at the strange animal.

Tonravik kept her eye upon him. He saw the thing, now, and was processing something. She looked back to the creature, whose nostrils twitched... and it looked directly to them as her son stepped forward and let out a quiet bark. It went entirely rigid before it sprinted off, away from the warren as though to distract. Her own hardwired instinct had her stare at the thing as a dog would its favorite ball, and once the thing moved, she solidly bounded over her son.

She managed to grab the creature by the back and one solid shake was all it took to end it all for the brown creature. Tonravik turned back with the rabbit in her mouth and dropped it before her son, tail waving. He could not eat it, yet, but he could identify it. "Ukalerk," she informed, nosing the still warm body. Rabbit.

His surprise was apparent when the creature reacted to his bark, shooting upright and turning it's head in their direction. Not even a second passed before it then took off hurriedly, scurrying away from the vicinity of the wolves. It was not fast enough. Sitamat watched in a mixture of fascination and bewilderment as his mother leapt after the rabbit, easily catching up to it and grabbing it between her jaws. There was a faint crunch of bones breaking as she then shook her head.

The boy scrambled backwards slightly as Tonravik deposited the now dead creature before him, though curiousity drew him forward and he inspected it with an outstretched head. He nosed it, gently pushing it's own head upwards before letting it flop to the side once more lifelessly. "Uuk," he echoed his mother as she gave a name to the creature. His eyes didn't leave it as he pawed at the rabbit's long ears.

It had taken two mighty bounds of her own to catch the rabbit that hadn't been too terribly far from them to begin with. Her son lifted its head which provided no resistance, and as he removed himself it fell back to the earth with a light thud. She nodded encouragingly as he responded to her. Not quite, but almost. As he pawed at the ears, she hummed, "Siutit." Ears. Different than his own, but still ears.

When he finished his inspection, Tonravik picked the rabbit up again and nosed her cub to the left. Time to take it to a cache. She took some steps ahead and then looked to make sure he grasped that they were moving on.

He continued playing with the thing's ears, making soft curious sounds as he did so. They were soft and still warm, and only moved when he physically made them. Sitamat made to grasp it in his teeth and taste it, but his mother's words caused him to look up, distracted. "Sit!" he repeated, unknowingly forming an actual word whilst trying to pronounce the one Tonravik had just said.

His excited exclamation quickly turned to a startled cry as she lifted the rabbit then, wanting back his plaything. He moved along with her as she nosed him forward, but kept his eyes trained on the prey that swung from her mouth, leaping up every so often to grab at it. "Siiit!" he tried again.

Tonravik heard him try his hand at repeating the word, and grunted in acknowledgment. She continued on, however, even as he began to protest. Once he begged, Tonravik loosed a low growl. When it came to whining, she had no patience. She stopped long enough to glare at Sitamat, the obvious look of displeasure upon her countenance. And then Tonravik continued on her way, up until the point they made it to a nearby cache.

At last, she dropped the rabbit. She began to paw at the earth, and informed him within their tongue this was a cache. He would not know that word. "Food is stored here," she explained in Inuktitut; he would know, for certain, one of those words... his favorite, food. Tonravik continued to paw at the earth, and then paused long enough to let Sitamat try his paw at it, if he so desired.

Her rumbling warning and displeased stare silenced the pup immediately. His ears folded back and hackles rose out of both fear and submission, dipping his head low in apology. He still yearned for the creature that Tonravik held, though he would wait until his mother allowed him it back. Begging was apparently not tolerated. He followed quietly beside her, careful not to cause any more disruption that would earn him another growl.

Suddenly, they stopped and the rabbit was set upon the ground. Sitamat stayed by his mother, tail waving as he looked up to her, wondering if he could go play with it again. Instead, she clawed at the dirt, speaking a single word foreign to him, before some others that he definitely knew. "Food," he repeated clumsily in their tongue, his tail becoming a little more frantic in his wagging. He jumped forward when Tonravik paused, working his over-sized paws at the earth, flinging dirt in all directions. The hole he dug was minuscule compared to what was actually needed, but the boy turned to his mother with a pleased grin.

Tonravik paused when her son spoke what she believed was his first word.

Food.

Her ears pricked, and Tonravik stared at him for a minute longer than was normal, before her tail waved approvingly. Makes sense. As he moved to dig at the earth, the mother watched him until he stopped, looking at her for what she articulated with ease. Approval? She snorted. That little hole, and he was pleased with that...?

Disappointment was written upon her face. She had to remember that he was a child, and his attention span was limited to seconds at a time. He displayed a measure more than was normal, as all her cubs seemed to, likely due to how difficult she was to please and when they paid that attention, approval was 1% more likely to be earned. This time? "Mikidluartok," came her words of disapproval, and even if he could not comprehend the word, he would know the tone of scorn for what she perceived as a failure on his part.

She pawed at his attempt again and gestured at it, licking her chops and prompting him to continue.

It didn't occur to the boy yet that he had just spoken one of his first comprehensible words. Amongst the babble and half-formed echoes that spilled from his mouth, he had managed to finally pronounce something that sounded like an actual word. It would take a while longer before he could convey anything of use, but at least it was a start.

After his attempt at making a cache, he stared up at his mother with a look of eagerness, hoping she approved. His face fell as he saw her own. Tonravik's expression was one of dissatisfaction, and the tone in her voice told Sitamat that he had done the exact opposite of what he wanted to achieve. His features crumpled in frustration, the tip of his tail flicking angrily at the small hole he now stared at. It had to be bigger.

At the alpha's gesture, the pup launched forward once again and attacked the ground with vigour, sending dirt flying haphazardly into the air and refusing to stop until he was physically forced.

When he recognized her displeasure, he truly set to the task. This time he committed to it in full, more pep and verve in the movements. His growing paws sent earth flying, and as he continued on she was content to watch. Only when the hole was big enough did Tonravik give an approving nudge. It was a suitable size for his first cache: the rabbit. It was all she would push him for today, knowing his paws and his claws could not do the work her own could. Fortunately, the ground was loose enough here to make the work easy on him... and it did not take too terribly long with his focus.

She deposited the rabbit into the spot, and nudged her son aside so he would not be hit by her legs or the dirt. Tonravik kicked back a couple of pieces and paused, waiting to see if he would assist in this, too.

This time, he was more successful. When Tonravik nudged him aside, Sitamat's concentration broke and he scuttled backwards, shaking out the dirt that had collected in his scruff. He admired his handiwork then. It was a sizeable hole, if he did say so himself. He had no idea what a cache was, though, other than the fact that this was where food went. Couldn't they just eat it now?

Lacking the ability to articulate his curiosity, the boy instead sat back and watched as his mother deposited the rabbit. He licked his lips hungrily, the effort from his frantic digging already causing his stomach to grumble for it's next meal. She turned back to him, and Sitamat wandered forward, sniffing at the partially covered creature before nosing some more dirt over it as Tonravik did.

Keen ears noted the grumble. She would feed him... simply not this rabbit in particular. He would not yet be able to articulate the importance of this she imagined, but then, maybe he could? As he nosed the dirt over it, Tonravik paused in her kicking of the dirt. His method would take him a longer time... and so she waited to see if he would recall the way she had done it and attempt that way. The longer it took him, the longer it would take for him to be fed.

This would not be the last time she took him on a journey like this. With his love for food, Tonravik intended to take him on more cache trips with her so he would grow better at it. Habitual, like it was for all wolves. Each of her sons would take their own sorts of trips with her, but with her youngest loving food, she felt this would be of the most interest for him.

Sitamat continued nosing the dirt, covering his muzzle in flecks of brown and grit as he did so. He did not pause even when Tonravik did so, engrossed in his efforts as he was. He glanced up momentarily before going back to swiping dirt over the rabbit, not connecting the dots that this particular way was much slower. Instead, the boy focused single-mindedly on the task, working harder, not smarter.

For all his dedication, however, the pup's legs eventually began to tire from the pawing. His rests became longer and longer, until Sitamat gave up altogether, looking over the buried prey and hoping it was enough for his mother.

Tonravik watched with amusement as he continued doing things his own way. She did not stop him, only watched. He seemed to tire of nosing and pulling the earth backward, which was effective in the last moments of burying ones prey, but could not possibly earth the creature in its entire. Tonravik had helped in the beginning which made his efforts passable, but not exceptionally so.

The mother knew she had to help him connect the dots. She looked unimpressed, her lips in a thin, tight line. She did not veil this from him. Tonravik contemplated simply leaving the spot as it was. It was relatively easy to detect that it was a cubs handiwork... and any scavenging thing could steal it with ease and little time. Should she let it happen?

Mm. No, not this time. He was too young to have done better, this time... and she would help him improve. "Watch," she told him in their Inuktitut tongue. And she fixed what needed fixing, patting his work down and kicking more dirt back. Once she finished, she looked to him and nodded, stepping around it and turning back. Time to go back.