Heron Lake Plateau you're a time bomb, baby

Vasa's world had turned upside down—literally. Although she was oblivious of how to resolve her current predicament, the child knew that something was wrong and that she needed to fix it. Somehow, Vasa had managed to roll onto her back, and now she was stuck in a comically comparable position to an overturned terrapin. 

In an attempt to reorient herself, her tiny legs peddled; she was startled, and fear was quickly overcoming her.

Shockingly, it was actually quiet in the alpha's warm little den. For the moment, most of the puppies were blissfully asleep.

Most.

Her little Vasa parrot was quickly proving to be a busybody, Raven was finding, and constantly seemed to get herself turned around, flipped over, or in some other sort of predicament. Raven sighed, giggling quietly to herself, and leaned over to help the girl flip back over. Gently licking away the light dusting of earth that coated her back, Raven whispered, "Silly girl. You just can't stay still, can you?"

The birds after which Raven and Quixote’s thirdborn had been named were incredibly agile flyers, with sleek, cutting wings perfect for executing impossibly clever acrobatics. They could turn on a dime, right themselves with a mere wingflick.

Their namesake? Not so much.

Kite was a particularly light sleeper when it came to tactile stimuli; even the smallest changes in temperature or pressure tended to jolt her awake. She’d been nestled against the hard angle of Raven’s elbow — her preference, for the gentle mother had probably tried to find her something softer to curl into — and the slight shift of sensation engendered when Raven leaned to right Vasa sent Kite spiraling into an awake, aware state. Her little head popped up and looked blindly around, wobbling unsteadily and keening, soft, long cries that started high and loud and decrescendoed.

If someone was having an adventure, she wanted in on it!

Her first order of business was to try to scale the speedbump that was Raven’s foreleg, and she grunted as she extended one wildly trembling paw, then another, before she toppled over onto her side. The impact wasn’t particularly violent, but it seemed to stun her briefly before she began trying to right herself. It’s just — how to do the sternal? She kicked and scrabbled, quavering more with each attempt.

Raven's actions had prevented a passionate clamor from her eldest child—for now, at least. 

Once Vasa was flipped onto her belly, her orientation returned to normal, and her anxiety dissipated. Content once again, Vasa mewled happily and leaned into her mother's touch.

SORRY FOR THE WAIT, GUYS. ALASKA CALLED AND I ANSWERED. <3

Raven licked Vasa, the long strokes of her tongue down the girl's back a rhythmic, soothing gesture intended to calm her. But then Kite started fussing and fumbling around, and the alpha noticed the pale girl's wobbly stumble. As always, her daughter's strange condition worried the healer, and she wished she knew of some way to treat the symptoms. It was hard enough for a newborn puppy to get around without the erratic tremors and lack of balance that seemed to possess little Kite. The mother switched from licking Vasa to doing the same to Kite, trying to quiet and steady the girl. The unfortunate downside to this was that it probably meant that Vasa would kick up her fussing again.

The noise Kite made was something along the lines of, “bee-roo-roo!” — a peeping distress cry that started high and then dipped down the musical scale to a more mournful tone, punctuated by the rounding of her little mouth. Once Raven started grooming her in long, slow strokes, though, Kite soothed. At first the ministrations excited her, and amped up the buzzing of her body to Angry Alarm Clock levels — but then she dragged in a deep breath and loosed it on a quavering sigh, “looking” instinctively toward Raven with a wildly bobbling head.

Once she calmed the heck down, the pale puppy found it almost ridiculously easy to right herself. The tension engendered when she panicked or got frustrated with her inabilities made things so much worse — but she couldn’t control her emotions, yet. Deep down, Kite was a sunny child with a cheerful disposition; it was just hard to see that (and hard for her to feel that) when her wibbling, wobbling body gave her so much trouble. Here with Raven, though, as the tension melted away, she turned her face toward her mother as a soft, pleased burble warbled in her throat.

Vasa now suckled contentedly at her belly and her ministrations to Kite seemed to be having the desired effect. The little one quieted somewhat and looked up at her with blind eyes. The mother grinned, feeling warm affection bloom anew in her chest. "That's my girl," she said softly between gentle strokes of her tongue, licking beneath the tiny chin to clean the little throat. "That's my strong, strong girl." She had no doubt that whatever condition Kite was dealing with, she would find a way to overcome it and become a stronger, more resilient wolf as a result. Towhee certainly had, and if she could raise a deaf wolf with such success, she knew that she could help Kite through the developmental challenges that lay ahead too. "I don't know what this is," she whispered, referencing the shakiness, softly into the little bird's ear despite knowing she probably couldn't hear it. "But you've got this."