Sawtooth Spire here goes the cold water

Totally noticed there's a heavy Thunderstorm in the area on the weather thing. Though this would be a fun experience for the kids! @Atuaserk @Malrok @Pingasut @Sitamat @Tonravik and @Aariak is welcome to drop by!

The tension was tight on the air. He could feel the pressure building throughout the day and even more so now that the afternoon was setting in. A late summer, early autumn storm was something he always looked forward to through the year. The roll of thunder. The crack of lightning. It was an exciting performance of the sky before the cloud finally broke and heavy drops landed upon the ground.

He'd corralled the children back towards the den, but still allowed them to linger outside if they so desired. It was growing darker early because of the cloud cover and the distant rumble of thunder in the distance, carried by the wind, promised the storm would cross their path here soon. Lightning flashed. A grin crossed his muzzle as he turned his gaze from the sky towards the pups who lingered.

This was gonna be fun. Probably more-so for him.

Tonravik sensed the storm as her mate had. He had been out with them and she had hunted in the meantime, taking advantage of the free time and uneasy prey preparing to burrow. Tonravik dove and dug up a warren, and carried with her four plump rabbits. 

They swung beneath her and by the time her mate and Cubs had arrived, so too had she. She dropped all four upon the earth before her mate who gestured to take his pick before observing the babes. The air was electric, and she wondered what they thought of it.

I would like to say that the writing for the show Girl Meets World is really terrible.I had such high hopes. -cries-

There was a different feeling in the air tonight, one that had the eldest beastie quite on edge. For once, he was wary, eyeing his brothers and his father as he lingered on the threshold of the den. The brownish-blachish not-potato switched his gaze to look around the clearing, unsure of what was happening, of why his fur was standing on end. His ears stood straight up, head turning to watch his mother approach with food.

But food did not interest him right now, brows furrowing as he tried to decipher this change in atmosphere. It was not until the first peal of thunder, loud and utterly terrifying, that Atuaserk even moved; he flinched, cowering for a moment before an infantile growl left him, though he stayed rooted to the very spot he stood.

The youngest of the brood shared his family's tension, his apprehension on par with Atuaserk's. He exchanged a glance with his brother, before looking up to his father inquisitively. Something felt...not right. They were herded to the den after their daily outing like usual but lingered at the front now. Sitamat sat beside the eldest, peering up at the dark clouds that gathered in the sky.

His worry was appeased a bit with the appearance of his mother, who came to them with a bundle of rabbits swinging from her jaws. Stubby tail wiggling, the boy visibly perked up and made towards Tonravik, wanting to test if she herself had had a meal yet (so he could steal a half-disgested portion), but the sudden loud clap of thunder caused him to yelp loudly and retreat back to his brother's side, ducking behind him as Atuaserk growled threateningly. He stared up at the sky, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, before his gaze fell upon his parents. What was that?

I am so bad for never using that weather thing lol.

He was as aware of the shift in the air as he was his family's reactions to it. His own reaction was one more of wonder and curiosity. He did not retreat into the safe confines of the den; choosing to remain just outside the door where he sat with his back toward it, tail curled neatly about his dainty feet. His blue eyes were looking ahead where flashes lit up the far away land, and his ears would swivel forward to catch the distant thunder. His mother's arrival with the rabbits caused saliva to collect upon his tongue, but he swallowed the accumulation before it could seep messily down his lips.

His siblings were quite concern about the developing weather. Atuaserk cowered beneath a loud clap of thunder, which like wise caused the fox to momentarily duck until he realized in the next instant that he was still safe and straightened up. Sitamat scurried to shelter behind the eldest. Ping moved to them both, brushing his slender muzzle across the brown cub's ears before pressing his nose to Sitamat's cheek. He crooned softly to them both, then padded to his mother.

He leaned up on his hind paws and licked at her chin and mouth, uttering soft whines as he implored her to share a regurgitated meal.

Malrok is always welcome to jump in as time permits! Starting the next round so Tonravik can maybe get three posts in on this before vacation!

He observed the pups as they explored. Each of them appeared to know something was different with the weather tonight. Watching them discover and explore the change in the air was something fascinating. Atuaserk jumped and growled at the sky as if he could challenge the weather and win. Sitamat cowered, something Iqniq didn't find too terribly surprising given his previously exhibited behaviors. And Pingasut? The fox-boy stood protectively over his siblings before brushing it all off and venturing over to discover his next meal. Priorities. Iqniq shook his head, amused.

The arrival of Tonravik and the rabbits caused him to drift from his overseeing position to near her quarry. At her suggestion, he nodded her and thank you then plucked up one of those rabbits and carried it off a little ways to dig in. He settled on the ground and held it between his paws as he ripped at fur and flesh with his teeth. If he ate up a bit, he too could help in the feeding time and still hopefully have enough left over to state his own stomach. She'd dug up enough to make that an easy thing. It was nice to see her out and about again.

Familiar with the weather, Iqniq was unfazed as the thunder rolled and the lightning illuminated the sky. He observed the children while he ate and let them further explore the change in the atmosphere on their own.

The sky broke its silence, and she observed her cubs as her mate did. Atuaserk was initially frightened—perhaps shocked, was the correct word—by it, before challenging it with a growl. Sitamat was truly nervous... and Pingasut was relaxed. Malrok seemed to hang back, observant, and as anxious as any during their first experienced storm. The likes of this one was nothing in comparison to the one she and her mate had experienced while she carried them... and so, her own nerves at the growling sky were virtually nonexistent anymore. She had never liked storms, their thunderclaps an irritant to her sensitive ears. It barked, and she could not understand... but after the storm of the century that had tore apart the Spine, Tonravik was content to observe the storm now herself.

She ate two of the four, and offered her mate the other one with an idle nudge though he had gone a couple feet off to eat his own. Tonravik was surprised the fourth-born favored nervousness to food... and more surprised that Pingasut arrived to her side to ask to be fed before the others. She lowered her muzzle, though could not yet wretch without them poking at it. Pingasut did just that, and she was able to release their collective meal. Tonravik licked her chops and turned to look to the sky. The clouds in the distance had released water and rain began to fall a little less than a mile off... Soon, it would reach them. Another peal of thunder sounded, and Tonravik slid to her belly.

That Sita cowered next to him only illicited the boy to growl louder, as if threatening the sky to even think about harming his brother. It was the first time he had displayed a protective nature towards any of them, though his growls quieted as Ping nudged each of them in turn. His small tongue ran against the fox-boy's cheek before he left the pair to go eat.

Eat! Food was good and he also knew, however vaguely, that Sitamat was a big fan of eating. Nudging his brother off of his butt and towards the food. Walking forward a couple steps, he looked back to Sitamat and whuffed softly, only lightly flinching this time as another roil of thunder sounded overhead.

His parents provided him no explanation for the noise. They didn't seem all too concerned by it. Instead, Iqniq claimed one of the rabbits and went off to enjoy it a few feet away while Tonravik appeased Pingasut's requests for food of his own. Sitamat had accepted the gentle press of the fox cub's nose against his cheek, though did not move as he peered back up at the angry sky.

It was only when Atuaserk nosed him from his position that the boy began to waddle forward. He paused, watching the equally large pup give an encouraging woof, which prompted him forward a few steps towards the food. Until another clash of thunder sounded above them. Sitamat stood rigid, the fur on his back standing on end and he once again looked to his parents, giving a soft whine that indicated his fear despite their relaxed demeanours.

His mother provided for him and for his siblings, and the fox did not hesitate to partake in the meal she had deposited on the floor. He delicately picked his pieces and ate them neatly, quickly swiping his tongue across his mouth anytime a morsel dared to dirty it. He watched the storm, and noticed how it changed as it drew closer, but still he was unbothered by it. His brothers moved in toward the food, and though he did not move to make any more room than was already available, he continued to eat without much concern.

The last born was about to eat when another clap of thunder spooked him. He whined, and the fox looked to him. Rising to his paws, he circled around Sitamat, and then shoved the crown of his head up against his back and made to push him the last few steps forward toward the meat. His thinking could almost be heard in his actions. Get over it an eat already!

As he had filled his belly, Pingasut settled down a few feet from his siblings, observing the storm.

Iqniq made quick work of the rabbit. When Tonravik offered up the last of the four she'd initially collected, Iqniq rose to accept it with a subtle nod of thanks. He settled more closely to her this time, careful to avoid the splattering of the meal that was offered to the kids. It reeked a little too much for his liking, but he ignored it and instead left his nose to the blood from the rabbit and the electric air of the storm.

Thunder rolled. The pups growled or cowered at the sound. One day, he knew they'd think nothing of it, but it was amusing to watch them try to figure out what was going on now. "Thunder," he murmured between bites as if giving a name to the sound in Tonravik's tongue would better explain what was happening. Then again, the word was just as new as the sound. It likely wouldn't make sense.

The clouds were illuminated by lightning. The whole earth lit up for a split second before falling back into a hazy shade of pre-storm gray. Iqniq lifted his ears, waiting for the next crack of thunder to give him an idea of how far the storm was from their present location. Thunder rolled. Close, but not close enough to matter quite yet.

As soon as he thought it, the light pitter patter of rain set in. It was sprinkling just enough for the odd drop here and there to splatter across his hide. He glanced towards Tonravik. They should probably move the kids in soon, but while the storm was still in its infantile stages, he had no issue with letting the pups experience rain for the first time. It wasn't falling hard enough currently to matter to him, but if she felt differently he'd follow her lead. For now, he contented himself with the rabbit. He was intent on finishing it before moving inside.

Each cub behaved differently in regards to the storm. Tonravik watched with apt interest. It did not surprise her that Sitamat was the most anxious about it, nor did it surprise her too much that Pingasut seemed utterly unaffected by the sky's distant growl. Perhaps it was because it was faraway he did not fear it... but the sound had startled her as a child, when she would snap at the sky and snarl right back. If she feared it then, who could say? She could not remember. But she could remember wanting to fight all things that snarled at her... the sky had been no different.

Sitamat whined, and Tonravik looked to him. Her mate spoke a tongue that had appropriately become his own... he knew the language well, now, and it pleased her to hear him say the word. Her eyes fell to him, next, and remained upon him before moving to the shifting fox. She watched as he nudged his brother and chuffed. What would win out in the end? His fear, or his love for food?

Her mate ate, and when a raindrop plopped against her own hide, she shared a look with their mate. Mutually, they agreed, not yet. She wanted the storm to be a bit nearer, to watch their faces as the snarling grew louder. Would they recognize the sound as a challenge, yet? Storms at this elevation were rare; her own first experience was a bit later than their own, so she did not know what they would recognize here. If it was just a loud, annoying sound... or something to (try and) fight off. Since the rain was not yet consistent, she felt no need to usher the babes in. They did not have the coats of their parents that enabled them to sleep in this sort of weather, yet, and were vulnerable to the cold and sickness. Only when the rain fell at a pace she recognized in the distance would she and her mate push them inside. By the sound of it, it would not be too long... but it was not yet.

The thunder was closer, now. She hoisted herself into a sit, ready to make her boys hustle into the den in the next couple of minutes.

With the encouragement of both himself and Pingasut, Sita seemed to calm a little bit and gravitate towards the food provided for them. The second clap (which had not been quite as loud as the first) stalled the last born again and yet it was as if the other boys had no patience for this. Ping shoved him forward and Ata grasped the boy's ear with his teeth to try and pull him in the direction of food. One did not have a great amount of patience, however, and he eventually split away from the others to go eat and fill his belly, not quite noticing the first drop of rain or two.

His father's voice made him pause, looking at him with an inquisitive stare, muzzle dirtied wth the residue of his meal. Th...under? His eyes flickered to the sky, wondering, not yet connecting the dots. He would soon, and he certainly would if it was repeated for him. For now though, he went back to his food and would have continued eating until he was full had he not been interrupted again. This time, the interruption was not either of his parents or brothers (Malrok was keeping to himself quite a bit right now) but something wet and cold.

A drop landed quarely on his nose, causing the boy to start and looik around, though another growl left him as the sky gave another loud peal of thunder. If it was a threat, he would scare it off and if it was nothing to worry about, he would learn that too; for now, he was being assaulted by rain, his fur slowl soaking up each drop that landed upon him.

His brother's encouraging nudges and licks quickly turned into shoves and bites. When Pingasut nosed the boy forward, Sitamat let out a quick yelp and turned to face his smaller brother, ready to reprimand him for his impatience. For once, food was taking a back seat. Did he not realise something was happening in the sky? Something new and loud and greatly unsettling to the youngest boy. Atuaserk then grabbed at his ear and Sitamat lurched in his direction with a snap of puppy teeth and the softest of growls.

His uncharacteristic mood didn't last long, however. He followed the eldest to the pile of regurgitated food and his temper settled once he filled his stomach. Placated, he licked his lips and looked to Iqniq as he spoke. He was as puzzled by the word as Atuaserk, though did not dwell on it. Instead, he waddled over to Tonravik as she pulled herself into a sit.

He placed himself between her forelegs, starting when a droplet of water hit one of his own paws in time with a clap of thunder. Though, this time, instead of cowering, Sitamat reclined and licked at the water that had so mysteriously appeared on his leg, feeling safer now underneath Tonravik's beastly form.

Rain started to fall. Oh no. He did not know what rain was but as the first few drops hit his fur and soaked down to his skin without interference he knew exactly what he was dealing with. He was dealing with wet, an unpleasant sensation that he first met when his father took him and his brothers to that stream, and his brothers decided to try to force him to play in it. Nope. He was not having any of this.

He lifted a paw as a drop struck it, flicking an ear as another came, ducked at a third, and even tried to move spots as if the rain only fell where there. But this was not the case, he could see the water assaulting his family too. "Gah!" he exclaimed as he darted toward the nearest form, which happened to be his mother and his brother who had already staked a claim between her paws. Too bad, the fox squeezed himself in, attempting to hide from the rain beneath their mother's broad chest.

The storm might have been in its infantile stage, but the kids were having none of it. Sitamat, who'd already escaped to pose as a miniature Tonravik between her arms, was hardly bothered by it. While he was generally a cautious sort, there was something about Tonravik's presence that seemed to soothe him. A twinge of jealousy flickered through him as he realized he was not the choice creature of comfort, but the thoughts were quickly dismissed as Ping discovered the light sprinkle of rain.

Consistent to the way he'd reacted to the creek, boy-fox was having none of it. Iqniq licked his lips, cleaning off the remains of the rabbit from his maw as he too hoisted himself to a sit. He watched the miniature him try to dance around the drops and eventually squirm beneath Tonravik's paws. Iqniq lifted a brow to her and snorted. Ears flicked as he rose and lowered himself to stretch. Up dog. Down dog. He worked each limb to his leisure while Ata ran around barking at the storm and snapping at rain drops.

Like a wall of water the rain swept over them at a more rapid fall. Time to go inside. He snatched up Ata by the scruff, stealing him away from his battle with the storm as he carried the boy back inside the den. He placed him in a corner and made a wall of his body as he glanced back to see if Tonravik needed any additional assistance with the remaining two. Something told him Ping might be quick to sprint back inside as soon as he realized it was an option, but he couldn't be sure. All the same, he made his body a solid force to let the others in while refusing to let Ata back out. His duel with the storm could wait until the boys coat was adult enough to weather the storm.

Tonravik thought nothing of her cubs moving beneath her to observe the literal waterworks except for a moment, where she combated between disappointment and acceptance. That they moved beneath her meant they were intelligent rather than frightened, she rationalized, knowing their coats were not yet at the point where they would not fall sick from becoming too wet. Soaked to the bone seemed a legitimate possibility for the thinly-furred cubs.

When the rain began to fall in one thick sheet, she stood on all fours and adjusted her hindquarters , keeping her frame above her boys as an umbrella and ushering them toward their father. The second-born had entered the depths of the den quietly, and she waited for the final two to rush indoors now that they were prompted to.

He was watching the others take shelter when the hard rain came, soaking him through to the bone. He had time only to give his dark fur a good shake before Atatak picked him up and carried him in the den. Voicing his displeasure with this, the boy squirmed to no avail in the grasp of his father's jaws. He wasn't ready to go inside yet! "Atatak!" He cried angrily, fighting all the harder.

When he was set down, his father seemed to know what he was going to do and blocked him from making a mad dash towards the mouth of the den. Another try or two did not change this outcome, though he tried nonetheless until he resigned himself to the dry confines of the den. With a tiny huff, the eldest boy shook his fur out again before he sat rather grumpily near mother.

Contrary to Tonravik's assumptions that he had moved beneath her because of sheer intelligence, Sitamat was truly just frightened of the strange happenings in the sky. He did not have an aversion to water as Pingasut did, but didn't enjoy the sensation when it seemingly came from nowhere. Besides, the cold droplets soaked through his soft coat, chilling his skin and he definitely wanted to avoid being showered in it. When fox boy moved into his spot, Sitamat protested some, throwing his head back to snap aimlessly at his brother but ultimately relenting. Fortunately Pingasut was small, and Sitamat was squishy, so they fit snugly between their mother's forelegs.

The water fell more substantially now, and was quick to drench their surroundings. Sitamat tried to wiggle even further into Tonravik's chest to avoid the rain but found that he could not escape it. Iqniq provided the best solution — to simply go back into the den. He watched as his large older brother was carried in with much resistance, before rising as Tonravik did and entering the den with her acting as a shield against the torrential waters. Still, he gave a shake to rid his fur of any rogue droplets once inside, moving towards their father as he was the one furtherest away from the wind and cold. He settled against his side, drying his thin dark fur against Iqniq's thicker, more vibrant coat.

Indeed, the fox did not need to be herded into the den. At the first sign that this was permitted, he made a beeline for the enclosed space, out of the rain and safe from the wet. As was becoming apparent any time something dirtied or dampened his coat, he sat off to the side of his family after he gave himself a shake and licked himself over, until he was confident that he was clean and that his silky coat had been restored to its pristine glory. Feeling a chill, and of course preferring nearness, he did not hesitate then to cuddle up, choosing Sitamat for a snuggle buddy.   

He stirred, for his brother's coat was still wet and this would not do. So, he turned his tongue on Four, grooming until he was satisfied that he had a clean and dry spot to lay against.

Last round!

Atuaserk fought against his hind paw as the rest of their group escaped to the confines of the den. He was becoming quite skilled at this paw to forehead thing. Ata was quite the rowdy little one and he was already beginning to fear the day when his foot would not be enough of a deterrent to hold him back. Until then, Iqniq would relish in his ability to control the boy. His nature was bold, but mentality could not protect his puppy thin coat from the heavy rains that were soon to follow.

Ping shot by. Tonravik, serving as an umbrella to Sitamat, made her way inside. Malrok was tucked away. All was well in the world. Good. He exhaled deeply and settled himself by the mouth of the den. The roar of the rapidly falling rain beat against the ground as the storm passed overtop their home. With a grunt, he lowered himself to his belly, but said no more about the storm. They could listen an observe. They could peek over his body to watch the rain if they so desired, but any more daring and he would nip them back into warm, dry safety of the den.

The rain would eventually pass. The world would begin to dry. A yawn escaped his muzzle. Perhaps in the morning they could play in the puddles and splash around a bit. Until then? He lazed inside and hoped the rain's rhythm would lure the children to sleep so he too might snooze along with them.