Whitebark Stream A grass blade flashed with a gleam.

Something different happened that day. Little Winter did not take note of it until the morning's first feed left him full and content. He lay splayed on the den floor, tiny tongue poking between his lips as he waited for sleep to sweep him away again. Instead of the deep red hue that he saw each day, however, he found movement of bleary shapes before him.

He stared dimly at his blurred siblings, blobs of beige and ash, but he felt no fear or confusion. Winter cooed softly to himself, simply curious of this new development.

The coo of her firstborn wakes the woman from her nap. Shifting, she stretches a hind limb lazily as she moves to blink the cloudiness from her gaze. It takes her a moment to realize the difference in her boy; his eyes are no longer pulled tightly shut. She smiles, content rumble in her chest as she plants a kiss between his ears. She wonders what it is like, to see for the first time. She, certainly, has no memory of it.

just a cameo, feel free to skip :D

That was the day Frost proved himself to be a bit behind his siblings in more ways than just one. He was already the smallest--the runt, though he would grow to not much appreciate that word so he'll probably judge me for using it now. He took his meals after the others, fell asleep last, woke up later when they were all fumbling about. These were all things he was content with, just as he was perfectly content when his brother's eyes first showed themselves while his remained firmly shut.

The boy couldn't hear his brother's coo, or his mother's soft growls. He could only feel them stirring a bit against him. It wasn't enough to fully rouse him from his sleep, but it caused him to squirm a bit himself. He tucked himself closer to them, wedged between Dawn's side and Winter's rump--a warm, happy place for a baby to be. He stretched his limbs out into open air for a moment, his teensy jaws widening into a big, sleepy O, before he once again settled and went back to his happy slumber.

Winter peered ahead, staring at the unidentified shapes before him. They were familiar to him, he knew: a source if warmth and companionship that he'd never been without. He blinked once, twice, then lifted his oversized head in automatic response to the gesture delivered atop his ashen crown. He sought the face of his mother without thought, but she was simply a blur of sterling hues. She was the one thing he adored above all else, however, so earned a content mewl in response.