Duskfire Glacier a dog can smell a lie you know

this is mainly for the parents (@Rye) but other parents and puppies in the Caverns would be welcome! (@Wintersbane, @Tzila, @Arius, @Ensio, @Lane / Veteran, @Wayfarer). Developmental stage: about 2 wks/6 human months (eyes are open, milk teeth are coming in, eats regurgitated meat, etc etc.)

When he woke that morning, Sikuliak was again faced with change and new things to learn. 

The sunlight filtered in dimly, warm and red on his eyelids but on this particular morn, when the beams played against his face and roused him from his place where he was tucked between his father's cinnamon forelegs, the lids seamlessly slid apart and revealed to him a whole new world -- albeit a blurry and startling one. 

This revelation caused the pup's murky eyes of blue to widen comically, inky lips going slack in a slight expression of shock -- eyes following the flecks of golden dust as their motes twisted in the air, as best he could at his age anyways. After a moment, a soft noise escaped the boy and he wobbled onto unsteady feet.

Shakily, he tiptoed his way from his parents' slumbering sides and towards the light at the threshold of the den -- picking up surprising speed despite how he stumbled and tripped clumsily as he made his great escape.

It wasn't the unusual warmth being cast on his fur that stirred his internal clock, no, that would be his son waking and tumbling towards the exit of the den. At first Rye ignored the calling instinct to check on his boy, sleep was still the priority but that was only until he could feel the heat displacement. First his right eye cracked open to see a blurry blob hastily making its way outside, where all manner of poky, prickly and stabby dangers were waiting. At least, that's what Ryes haywire brain was panicking about. He glanced back to Imaq, who appeared to still be sleeping, rather than let her see their son slipped from his sight Rye carefully removed himself from the den. He hoped he was successful in not waking her but he didn't stick around long enough to double check. 
Instead he began corralling his little explorer, parking himself on his haunches in front of the babe. Adoration blooms in his chest and etches into his dilated irises, the large man lowers himself to his sons level. Just then he notices the two murky blue eyes, he quietly chuckles to himself. "So, you're going to have your mothers eyes." He hums. Rye didn't know of all the changes cubs go through as newborns, so for all he knew blue was to be the boys eye color. The hotah moved closer to hopefully intercept his young'un, doing a short belly crawl. Rye wasn't against letting him explore but not for long, he didn't want the boy to catch a cold.

It wasn't Rye's deperature that woke her -- nor Siku's -- but when her subconscious recognized that she was alone in their bed furs, her cracked gaze winked open blearily. She peered around, eyes opening with alarm and head rising alertly when she realized her (intended) mate and child were in fact gone. Hastily, she made her way to her feet -- as quickly as she could while fighting the pain that was beginning to blossom in her pelvis and the black spots that wanted to claim her vision from bolting upright. When she could walk without doubling over and the dizziness wasn't threatening to topple her over like a sapling caught in a storm, the medicine woman scurried out into the corridor, aquamarines sweeping the shadows until they landed on Rye and their son a few feet away.

With a sigh of relief, Imaq padded closer on slower steps. "Siku," she crooned chidingly as she came up next to his father, bending to rasp her splotched tongue over his forehead with a grin of adoration. "What we do with you, ullugiak?" she asked teasingly as she pulled back. 

Though his hearing wasn't exemplary, Sikuliak still managed to catch his father's fast approach and whipped around to face his pursuer with a whisper of a squeak that might someday become a growl -- or would have if his own underdeveloped balance hadn't sent him toppling sideways. Before he could right himself, the blue merle was distracted by the sight of Rye inching closer on his elbows and underbelly. The pup cocked his head, an intensity that defied his age etching itself into his stormy features as he scrutinized his father for the first time with blurry eyes.

Before he knew it, his dam had followed them out into the corridor as well, catching the young Qeya-Black's attention as his head swiveled towards her in similar rapt fascination. Though he had never before laid eyes on his parents, their scents and voices were familiar at least. By the time Imaq had kissed his head and questioned him, the Pi had found his way onto his faintly spotted haunches and let out a babbling coo in response -- smiling for the first time though it wasn't quite full-fledged at this early stage.

Again, he found himself unable to choose a favorite -- baby blues shifting between both Glacier wolves as he drank in their reactions to his unintended cuteness.

Rye rose slightly from his elbows to let his muzzle meet the underside of Imaqs jaw, running his muzzle across her soft fur and soaking her scent into his own fur. After placing a kiss just under her jaw Rye returned to softly gazing at Sikuliak, or Liak for short to him. While Imaq had chosen Siku for their sons shorthand name, the sire went with Liak. Partially for humorous reasons. As Ryes mind floated around for a moment, his thoughts eventually landed on his soon-to-be mate and her health. Birth was complicated and at times deadly, sometimes immediately and other times it crept up on mothers. There was still an abundance of information Rye had yet to learn but he knew, appearances can be deceiving. Tawny golds flitted up to the woman, a soft concern spreading throughout his demeanor.

"Imaq," He began softly, lifting himself up to her level but still keeping a portion of his attention on their son. "How are you feeling? I haven't been a very good partner lately, too busy devoting my attention with my son to check on his mother. I do worry for you sometimes." He admitted. Rye nudged Imaqs shoulder with his head, resting there for a moment. Physical affection was his kryptonite, his addiction that he had been nearly starved. It was his love language, actions outweighed speech but words sometimes conveyed what kisses and hugs couldn't. And when they were partnered together, they could express what seemingly couldn't be by words and actions alone.      

Just as he reached to greet her, Imaq’s attention turned from their wayward pup — now that she’d located him and could breathe again — to her future husband. She bent, smothering a grimace as the motion pulled at her aching lower half, accepting his kiss and slowly swiping her own spotted muzzle across the top of his head, planting her lips against his honeyed crown. Her cracked gaze returned to Sikuliak for a moment, grinning as he smiled and ‘talked’ to them. 

Before she could say anything back or encourage the boy to speak some more, Rye’s question had drawn her sheepish and guilty eyes back to him. 

“Rye is good man, good father,” she reassured him, gentle octaves hushed as she sidestepped to curl herself around his shoulders and upper back in a sort of canine hug. “Imaq be okay. Just pain.” She smiled as she pulled back, hoping he could see that she meant it. 

It was true they communicated best silently, in part because it was also the language of her people. Words and grand gestures were often replaced with simple acts of kindness and consideration, affection and touch revealing the truth of the islanders’ stoic nature. But Imaq felt she had enough words now to unravel some of her mystique. 

“Siku not Imaq’s only son,” she admitted in a soft wisp, voice so tiny it couldn’t possibly be her own. The shepherd’s aquamarines dropped, moving to her fourth born child. “Three sons before. Three gone.”

Siku was of an age where he was just beginning to explore and understand the world around him. He could not understand the somber air that had developed suddenly around his small family, nor could the wolfdog yet make sense of the tender emotion shining in his mother's eyes when she looked upon her only living son. 

He knew only that he had seemingly lost their attention, which was now averted to each other, and that bored him. 

Left to his own devices, the tot quickly became invested in his own paws -- glancing down at the grey nubs with a comical expression of shock that both parents missed in the midst of their moment. Hey, how did those get there??

short, little crappy reply, sorry!! Should br back to normal by the 9th or even 8th

A few pangs of guilt surfaced after hearing his intended was in pain, he had remedies for it but since Lanes sick pup Rye thought twice about what he'd offer to Imaq. It didn't feel right to give poppy seeds to a nursing mother but he wasn't sure what else was available or safe for her. He would have to do some investigating for later. For the moment, he nodded his head in understanding and returned with a bitter sweet smile. Some guilt still tugged at his heart but quickly it would be replaced with concern once again. Imaq admitted she had and lost three sons. Ryes eyes gently widened, his brows knitting together. There was stunned silence at first, quiet contemplation surfacing in the form of a thousand yard stare. A bracing sigh broke the quiet as the hotah organized his words.
"Darling," He began, his words felt heavy. "I'm— so sorry." Rye placed a hesitant kiss just below the merles ear. "I'm always here for you, and I will always be there for him. No matter what I have to do." It was a promise of safety, security and support. He'd give his son everything, even if that left nothing for himself.

Imaq leaned against Rye, nestling into his embrace deeper, as if physically drained by the admonission. In truth, she needed the comfort he provided -- even if only for a brief moment of weakness. She had never allowed herself to be weak, to truly process the loss of her first litter. Survival had required her to bury their memory alongside her sons. But the Hotah had provided her with a chance to truly feel it and allow it to weigh upon her, in the company of someone who truly cared. She was endlessly grateful for that. 

Her first instinct was to reassure him but in truth, it wasn't okay. She shouldn't have been forced to carry a stranger's children, love them, and then lose them. "Imaq be okay. Some days good. Some days...Imaq is sikuk. Stuck. Sad." She smiled wanly, perhaps trying to seem encouraging despite the bleakness of the situation. 

"Imaq here, with Rye, now. Imaq try to see good things. Would not be here, would not be nuliak to Rye or mother to Siku, if no bad things."

The anguish in Imaq and its depths was entirely unknown to the hotah, his only real chance at learning was through words alone but even then his understanding would fall short of truly knowing. What he did know was her bereavements kept haunting but Rye also knew his beloved was strong, hardy as an oak tree and although he worried for her, he also knew she would make it to the other side. The hawkeyed man smiled somberly, wanting to match her emotion rather than try to outshine and cure it with abundant happiness.
"I'm proud of you," He said earnestly. "I can't and don't wish to imagine your grief but I'm glad you are trying to see the good in things." Rye drew his head back peppered Imaq in quick kisses, wherever he could land them on her head. "But, on those days you are stuck I implore you to reach out to me. As I said before, I am here for you and that will not change. I love you too much to let you suffer in silence." 

Warmth colored the shepherd's cheeks beneath her freckled fur. She had not heard such words since she was a girl; the medicine woman could only smile shyly, scuffling a paw along the cave floor as if suddenly made bashful by his praise. Laughter escaped her as ticklish kisses rained down on her auds and nape but the merle grew serious when Rye continued. A hint of a smile still played on the edges of her speckled lips but she gave a firm little nod, cracked gaze of seaglass softening. 

Imaq was not a woman inclined to speaking often but she could not deny that the length of him curled warmly around her comforted her. The sight of their son playing filled her with joy, even if it did not fill the dark hole in her heart. It made such things bearable. 

Perhaps Rye couldn't understand but he could sit with her, so she needn't bear it alone.