Sawtooth Spire i am not in control of my extremities

He was laid on the den floor in the manner of a sphinx, quietly watching what he could see of the world outside the den. His tail twitched idly, and his ears turned frequently. His hearing had improved, and now he could hear distinct sounds from the beyond their nest, and within it. He shuffled forward, his childish curiosity inclining him toward the den entrance, until something crawled over his paw. He drew it back with a soft gasp, ears thrust forward and muzzle turned down as his icy eyes attempted to focus on a small, moving bit of darkness.

It was a large beetle of some sort. His tail started to wag and he smiled. The third born stuck his paw out to poke the beetle, and it scurried this way and that. Pingasut's lips split into a broad grin, revealing the sharp points of his baby teeth, and then he poked it again. This time it hurried even more, clamoring over rocks and debris and whatever else was in its path, eliciting a delighted giggle from the family's oddball.

Iqniq swapped places with @Nanuk temporarily so that he might run a lap around the borders of their home. The mountainous trek took some time. With all the ups and downs, he wandered for a while, marked as needed, and then returned to receive her of puppy guard duty so she might in turn resume her normal guard duty of the rest of the pack lands. Essentially, they switched places and were both able to stretch their legs a bit. Only now? Now it was his turn to hunker down and be the first line of defense when it came to protecting that natal den.

A yawn escaped him as he settled down in the shade of a tree not too far from the entrance of the den. From here, he couldn't hear the pitter patter of his puppies' feet, but he could hear their squeaks and other sounds here and there. Content to treat this like a glorious symphony he could only hear from the outside, he turned his gaze towards the entrance of the den and listened to them squeak and squall.

He was not expecting to see any of the pups until Tonravik deemed it well and clear for him to see them, but in his watching, he saw a flash of something orange for just a second before it retreated back into the shadows beyond. Was that? Was that Three? The one Tonravik thought was more fox than wolf?

A woof escaped him. Just a sound he hoped would lure the child back towards the entrance so he might get a better look.

His attention was square on the beetle as it danced across the den floor, his constant pawing disorienting it to the point where it knew not which way to run and now had begun to scamper in whichever direction it faced after being jarred by the fox's foot. But the third born's focus was interrupted when his father's soft woof sounded from the den entrance. He looked toward it, paw still hanging in the air. The beetle escaped then, and truthfully had been forgotten. Before him was a far more interesting object: the big red thing that his mother never let come close.

For a few moments he did not but stare at this new face, placing his paw back on the ground. He had caught glimpses of it before, and had come to know the scent, but it was right there now. His tail, still yet short and thin as it was, lifted into the air and waved back and forth. He took a step toward red thing, his blue eyes bright with curiosity. Then he took another, slowly closing the gap between them. He felt no fear, no concern, as if he knew by instinct that there was no danger here despite their mother's efforts to keep the two separated.

Tonravik remained where she was, even as her cub moved toward the entrance... it was belatedly she realized how close he was getting when she drew him backward and reached out a foreleg to barricade him from exiting. The woman chuffed to her mate outside... if he wanted to glimpse the fox, now was his chance. But if ever she wished to use a dummy to test the will of her mate, it would be this teeny one. If he died, was it a true loss? ...Perhaps. Even being a runt, he had made it this far... so the mother would let him peer inside, but would, as ever, give to the need and instinct to snap at him should he come too close for her comfort. The time was nearing, but it was not yet that time.

She rumbled, "You will see them next week." It felt right. By then, they would be a month old... and by then she hoped to stretch her legs some. Get more than five whole seconds of fresh air. And her mate more than a mere blink of an eye, or a shadow.

This little one came closer than all the others had before. His gaze peered around the entrance to the den as he watched the red-orange child draw through the shadows and nearer to the light. He spied it. For just a moment, he caught a glimpse of that fox-like fur that was a few shades lighter than his own coat. Three. That was the one Tonravik held concern for. They'd discussed it briefly before, but seeing the flash of orange before the she-bear drew him away was enough for him to dissuade himself of the concerns she'd raised in him by doubting their third-born before.

Iqniq grinned. He liked the spirit in that little one. In all of them, truthfully, but there was something about a miniature duplicate of himself that caused a twist of pride to swell within his chest. No doubt, despite the concerns Tonravik held in their son's coloring, he would grow to be a handsome wolf with a fiery personality to match. Pingasut would defy all odds and squash all doubts his mother had. Iqniq would see to that.

"Is that when your instinct has decided to let up?" he questioned. He did not think instinct had anything to do with physical time. In this, he wondered if it was her own stubbornness holding her to that deadline. The pups were quickly proving they could hold their own. A few paces outside of the den would not harm them.

He was so close, just a few more steps and he would be nose to nose with his father, but before he could get there his mother swooped in. He was towed backward, and then bam, there was that big ol' bear paw barricading him again. His disappointed huff was audible, and his ears drooped. He leaned up on Tonravik's leg, so that he could peer at the red wolf still. His mother rumbled, and he looked to her briefly, before he turned back to his father as he spoke. The redheaded child sighed again, bored and restless now that his fun had been stopped. He knew not what to do, so he shifted his position and started to chew on his mother's toes.

Having no legitimate sense of time herself, she could only assume that a week was the timeframe... she, too, saw their strength growing day by day... but even so, did not feel safe in releasing them quite yet. It was that instinct she adhered to, but it abated, day by day. "Perhaps," she responded. She could not be sure. Tonravik did not understand herself or these instincts, only that she was obedient to them. In her life, they had never done her wrong, so she had no reason to mistrust them now. She had no desire to be stubborn; every day with these tykes caused her to long with a million others without them. Cruel, perhaps... but then, there was that saying, "too much of a good thing".

A bit of outdoor activity would do her good. But she understood somehow that the time had not yet come. How that was, who knew? The questions were truly a waste of time to her, who had better ways to generate those mental energies. For him, she had once tried to extract the answer... but she was given no answers. As their son mouthed at her paw, Tonravik's gaze shifted to him. Since his teeth were not involved in this, she enabled it.

Perhaps. He snorted. At some point, she'd grow restless and fly that coop so fast... He'd be going stir crazy by now if he were her and would have welcomed the extra help so as not to lose precious amounts of sanity. He shook his head. Soon she'd have to let him in. Soon those children would have a parent who wished to play an active part in their world.

For the present time, the child was stolen from his view and lost to shadows. He heard the disappointed huff and the father echoed the sound with one of his own. Listening, he was curious as to whether or not the pup had anything else to say or squeak or what not. Listening was all he was permitted to do.

He was content to chew on his mothers toes for all of a minute before he became bored. He propped himself up on her leg again, peering for the red wolf, and he let out a long, drawn out whine which trailed in series of short, squeakier whines. He pawed at his mother's leg, looking up to her with an imploring expression. The outside world was becoming more and more of a draw to him as he aged, and he was eager to meet with the other wolf. His tail swept back and forth across the ground as he fell back on his rump, continuing to stare at his mother, as if he could will her to let him have his way with his blue eyes alone.

Tonravik heard the snort but did not think anything of it. Her eyes looked to Pingasut as he looked to her. She could feel the question, but she had already answered; she was immune to the bright baby blue eyes he wielded, and her own hardened. Her frustration was short-lived. Could he hear? Could he understand? Both things she did not know, but doubted. When they made noise there was no control at all to it, high pitched, low pitched... all at random.

The third-born exhibited that but seconds ago, in the short concert he had provided to her mate. Her ear twitched as she glanced to the mouth of the den, and then she glanced to the other cubs who were restful.

The pup tried to peer over Tonravik's back. He caught glimpse of the child for just a few seconds before it toppled back over and disappeared once more into the shadows, hidden beneath the shield that was their mother's body. He stared, his face hardened as Tonravik's ears twitched when the pup loosed sounds at uncontrolled pitches. Discovering their voices, eh? How exciting.

Tonravik shifted her head, glancing in his direction. He caught her gaze for a moment longer before he resigned to bringing himself to his feet. Standing now, Iqniq decided he would be better off doing something useful, like hunting again. He never knew how long it would take to come across something worth eating. Better to get started now.

-Iqniq exits-

He could see that his pleading had no affect on his mother, and he was about to scheme another tactic to get what he wanted when he noticed his father get up and leave. He whined piteously, and then slumped to the den floor. Well drat. There went his fun. He breathed a deep sigh, and resigned to his prison within the den, padded quietly to his resting brothers. He snuggled in beside them, fox-like head on his dainty paws, and stared toward his mother and the entrance she guarded. But his father did not come back, and nothing else happened, he fell asleep.