Redhawk Caldera Goldaline my dear, we will fold and freeze together

Anyone is welcome to hop in!

With mother sound asleep in the whelping den, Whip took his opportunity to see the outside world on his own without the prying eye of a chaperone or running the risk of being pulled back into the den by the scruff of his neck. At the ripe old age of 23 days, the terrible toddler saw fit to take things upon himself and explore the world above that he had so far only seen in short glimpses. Guided by curious intent, Whip pushed past his brothers toward the inviting call of sunlight.  

Starting by popping his head out of the enterance of the whelping den, Whip slowly placed a single paw on the grass before him. He turned back, looking to see if his secret excursion was still a secret, before scrambling clumsily outside. He walked forward a few paces before plopping to his plump stomach in front of the den, basking in the ample sunlight.  This wasn't so bad. There was nothing to be afraid of.

The sight of Eljay meeting the new firebirds still haunted her. His joy at seeing them was like nothing she'd ever before witnessed. She couldn't remember a time when he was as happy or excited about something, not even when he was an infant suckling at her side. It was heart-warming and wonderful, and also terrifying because she was fairly certain this meant her path was set in a direction that she was not entirely sold on.

And thus, we come to her approach of the alphas' den that day. It was customary for a visitor to bring a gift of some sort to the whelping den in those days - food for the overwhelmed and sleepy parents, a toy for the new babies. But Finley brought nothing but herself and her anxiety, and spotting the tiny critter that peeked out from the mouth of the den as she strode towards it, she was pretty sure that it would be more than enough.

Fin stopped a few feet short of the little potato with legs, peering at him as he stretched out in the sunlight. She instinctively lowered her posture as she crept forward another couple of steps, not wanting to frighten him. She didn't make a sound of greeting - instead simply staring in a manner that suggested that she was nearly as frightened of him as he had a right to be of her.

There was something about the draw of clean air and the warm, spring-time sun that made Whip's tiny tail thump against the ground like nobody's business. Thump, thump, thump, it went as his whole body wiggled in place with excitement. With head tucked low, Whip took a chomp at the grass, pulling away a fresh clump of blades with his newly acquired teeth to subsequently spit his spoils out in front of him with a face scrunched with distaste.

Captain's log - Stardate whenever: Grass tastes bad.

With tiny brow furrowed, Whip violently shook his head as if it would help shake the taste away. Alas, it did not. His eyes shot wide with horror; what if he was stuck this way? His head turned to catch the approach of another wolf who appeared just as scared as he was. Had the grass claimed another victim in her as well? Instead of using his non-existant vocabulary, all Whip could do was levy a whimper in her direction.

Had Fin been more aware of this moment and its significance, she would have realized (maybe) that it was way too much pressure to put on a creature that hadn't learned the full extent of what it meant to have feet. Her future, her relationship with her mate and her only son, fully rode now on this tiny being's capacity to do something so overwhelmingly adorable that it set Fin's course to such an extent that there was no changing her mind, no looking back. This puppy would decide the course of the rest of her life, simply by being a stupidly cute little puppy.

Fortunately, stupidly cute little puppies have a knack for such things.

Fin studied the miniature wolf as he gnawed on his surroundings and then almost instantaneously rejected them. Her head tilted slightly with interest as he squirmed uncomfortably and made such faces that Fin found herself wondering if she had ever been so unhappy that she'd made herself look like an alien in a desperate attempt at communicating her anguish. The residual motherly instincts in her caused her to wriggle forward until she could reach the little boy, at which point her tongue flicked out to lick his little face a few times in an effort to wipe away his horrified expression. Then she could go back to staring at him until he made her decide whether or not she wanted to be a mother again.

While Finley's swiping tongue did nothing to wipe away the foul taste that lingered in Whip's mouth, his uncomfortable whimpers began to subside into silence. It may not have been Fox on the other end of this affection, however, it felt just as motherly. The comfort recieved was therefore nearly the same. His scrunched brow slackened as the rest of his face relaxed, and by the time Finley pulled away, he slumped back on to the ground with forelimbs splayed wide.

Whip's confused expression was then replaced with a dumb looking smile. He stared up at Finley, tongue flopping lazily from the side of his mouth as he studied her features.

Her ministrations quieted the boy, but it took a little longer for him to completely relax.  Once he did, Finley finally stopped and gave him some breathing room. She watched as he pointed his nose towards her again and gave her a dopey grin. It was enough to illicit a smile from her own lips. He was a funny little guy. He seemed easily upset, but he also seemed to be fairly easily placated again.

But was he making her want to be a mom again?  Finley scooted closer and laid her head down on her paws to study him. His face was very tiny. His tongue was very wriggly for being about the size of her toe. His ears were pretty floppy too, which was cute. She reached towards the puppy with her muzzle to sniff at his face. He smelled like a puppy, and that gave her a little bit of the mommy flutters. But, was it enough?

"Come on... do something adorable," she murmured, nudging his temple gently with her snout, "If I decide to break my familys' hearts and crap on all of their hopes and dreams, it's going to be your fault."

If she wanted him to do something adorable, that was certainly a high standard to live up to. Whip was no trained monkey, and though he could not understand Finley's command, he understood she wanted him to do something by the way she nudged him with her muzzle after intently studying his features. He stared blankly at Finley, slack-jawed and confused, yet incredibly curious.

He shuffled, eventually pushing his pudgy baby body to sit squarely on his rump. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and almost, as if on command with Finley's request, Whip began to feel sick to his stomach. No doubt because of the grass he had tried to ingest. His face immediately went sour and he dropped his head at Finley's feet to spit up the milky contents of his stomach.

Fin had wanted him to coo at her, or roll over on his belly and giggle, or pose sweetly while a butterfly flew down and landed upon his nose. But no, the pup before her did something far more typical and tossed his cookies right onto her toes. The Blackthorn shut her eyes and grimaced as the liquidy sludge spilled from the child's belly onto her paw. She had definitely been here before. This was absolutely one of those places she was not keen on being again rather than one she'd been longing to revisit.

"Fail," she murmured as she picked up her paw and shook it in the air, sending gobs of gross off into the grass beside her. Fin looked back at the little wolf as she set her paw back onto the ground, knowing without really even seeing what look would be upon his face. Her heart melted instinctively, and she crept forward until she had the pup securely against her chest and she was nosing his little face tenderly, licking away whatever disgusting crap was remaining on his unhappy muzzle.

"You're so gross," she whispered as she worked, her mind now convinced that these tiny beings were more trouble than they were worth. But motherhood, unfortunately, was not a product of the mind. It was totally heart-driven. And as she cleaned up the icky little critter, she couldn't help but fall, millimeter by infinitesimal fraction of a millimeter, in love with the stupid thing.