Sawtooth Spire i'm bound by these choices so hard to make

Toeing outside of @Wylla's den, Stag took in a deep breath and cleared his throat. "Can I see them?" He winced as his voice sounded sharp and loud, disturbing the quiet peace of the glade.

He hadn't missed the cool, deserved glare Wylla had given him when he'd left. If not for the enormous crowd (many of them wolves Stag had barely even known) he would have stayed. Swallowing the lump that appeared hard and edged in his throat, Stag loitered a generous distance from the den, looking sorely out of place.

Wylla cracked one yellow eye open, grimacing as the sunlight and Stag's voice alike speared directly into her brain. Ouch. She had her limbs thrown haphazardly over @Thade and @Phaedra, as much to keep them warm as to keep them still while she napped, but both pups had also heard Stag's voice and would no doubt be squirming to get free.

Fine. With a sigh of faux exasperation (she was glad, in fact, that Stag had come round), Wylla rolled slowly onto her back, unleashing both cubs, but not before muttering, make sure you beat the shit out of him, show him who's boss, for their little ears as they presumably made their bids for freedom. She made a large ordeal out of stretching and yawning before poking her head out of the cave and squinting against the bright glare of the sun.

after their official commencement as sagtannet wolves, one would assume the ‘cherubs’ would be totally bushed. maybe so, for thade. as for phaedra? her dreamscapes were always vignetted by the longing for adventures in the waking world, and she was easily roused from the drip-tap of sleep that kept her snugly crescented against her brother’s warmth.
before mother could even finish her invocation for anarchy, her child was already prancing on the balls of her feet athwart the den’s entranceway. when the cool breeze raked through her fur, she glanced up at the blue realm of clouds and fished about for birds with her gaze before returning it earthward, and lo and behold! clownfeet! she didn’t have any recall of stag's attempts to yeet her, or the ensuing wrath of wylla upon him for such an endeavor, but his smell was a memory as perennial as daffodil bulbs and she belted a tinkling giggle as she tottered over to the cold-footed candy-ass.  
soft skills were still underdeveloped, clearly, because she marched right over without any deferential posturing or permission to frisk his person. perhaps ... she would have felt the need to do so if their guest wasn’t a milksop just scuffing his paw in the dirt. yeesh! what sort of impotent stirps had begotten this—? 
well, all decorum or-lack-thereof aside, with a happy tail that shimmied her entire backside, phaedra rocked on her feet and tried to meet his eyes with a charming smile.
any personal space stag may have possessed was promptly violated and unless he punted her away, she would thread through his beanstalk legs, canvassing every inch of him with an inquisitive, ticklish nose. from his forelegs, to his armpits, and coursing down the slope of his sternum towards, well—
 that had to be from when he had his own puppies. right. how disappointing. any milk left to plunder, i wonder? she reached out to touch the shriveled teat with her nose. 

Stag's breath remained held as he waited for Wylla to resurface. A small (big, really) part of him worried she might turn him away after that - but luckily for the boy, Wylla had put aside Stag's unwitting insult and released the tiny hounds.

"I'm sorry I left," He mumbled awkwardly, while he waited for Wylla's features to appear from the murkgloom, anything at all to signify she was not plotting killing him then and there. Somewhere on the cavefloor he heard the little clink-clink of rapid feet -- "It was crowded." He frowled, ears falling to his side only to lift immediately as a tiny figure speared through the shadows, lit by the generous sun.

Clownfeet grinned widely, his tail thumping against his command -- for it was none other than the little upstart that had nearly cost him his life that One Day. Did she even know she was about to make a Hawk-sized Happy Meal if it wasn't for Stag? Probably not. Stag had no visions of heroism or grandeur either - he had only been acting on impulse - but as the cavalry came thundering towards him he flinched ever so slightly, expecting milkteeth to assail his limbs or worse..

Oh, it was way worse. Her little nose, cold as a clown's soul or witch's tits, arced up and down his leg to the point he was yanking his limbs from the offending frost-tip, back and forth as she tottered from leg to leg to suddenly sternum and --

"YEEEeee," Out came the most unmanly noise the boy had ever made. Stag winced, doing the opposite of a belly tuck and nearly snapping his spine in half as he arched it like a startled cat. Ever so gingerly he danced around Phaedra's effusive greeting, juggling between wanting to say hi and very much not wanting to have his bits frostbitten off. "Cold." He grinned guiltily, hoping Wylla had seen none of that overtly-mannish display. Deciding he could do very little to stay the inevitable of cold pressed to his skin, Stag leapt a few feet away in a nimble show of athleticism and then sunk his belly to the ground immediately, where it could not be probed by nosy nellies and their frigid noses.

Wylla's shoulders were hardly level with the den's wide mouth when she flopped tiredly down in the doorway to observe the exchange between Stag and Phaedra. Thade, it seemed, preferred to remain within and nap. Maybe hearing his sister squealing, which was bound to happen sooner or later, would rouse him. In the meantime, she was glad she only needed to keep an eye on one of them.

S'fine, she muttered. He was making up for it now, which was more than he could say for some of the other wolves who either hadn't shown up or hadn't seemed enthusiastic about it. It was a little unfair of Wylla to expect everyone to be thrilled about her little cherubs, but some of those wolves could really do with trying to get into her good graces, no matter how they felt about kids. Stag was lucky that Wylla found him amusing and enjoyed his company, for it earned him more leniency than most. Even if he hadn't come calling, he'd get a pass.

She didn't realize her eyes had drooped shut until they flew open again at the sound of Stag's girlish shriek. For a long beat she fixed him with a disbelieving stare, then lazily unfurled her gums into a wide grin. The puberty train missed ya, huh? What a shame. Maybe braining yourself on a log permanently made it impossible for your balls to drop.

Feel free to skip Wylla, I'll throw posts in here and there if it makes sense.

her examination of him produced exciting results. before she could fully canvass this interesting development of others having mama's milk, stag arched his back like a fish-hook, spindle-shanks leaping, and caroled the most beautiful falsetto to ever grace the young child's ears.
as he danced away, she trilled with a giggle and tried to join his chorus of lovely music. "YEEEEEEEE!" she tweedled as loudly as a toddler possibly could (so pretty loud). ever his faithful comet-tail, she bounded after him during his acrobatic scamper from the venue of molestations. 
she pranced on the skirtings of her toes, tail streaming with glee as she advanced on him again. the pale yearling was flat as a pancake now, frozen stiff against the ground like he'd just been violated or something.  
"yee! yee! yeeeeee!" she crowed now in promenading steps 'round his person, a smile dusted on her lips now that she had a new sound she could repeat ad nauseum for any number of days!
after circling him like a predacious shark, the little menace sought to languish over stag's back like he was a chaise lounge and she the swooning damsel. if she was able to conquer his shoulders, she would start her expedition up his nape and onto his head and then, slide right off into the grass amidst attempting to catch one of his donkey ears in her mouth.

Puberty train? Wuzzat?

Stag hadn't been convinced he was completely forgiven, especially given that 'It's fine' usually meant it was anything but  -- but as the story goes, he didn't have much time to think on it before his person was most roughly violated. The resulting noise wasn't a noise he wished to be repeated outside of this encounter, so naturally, the shadow that followed his every move was now proudly yawping it across the rooftops for everyone to hear.

Forgetting for a moment the sunbathing Wylla, Stag focused his attentions on the hellish (yet adorable) little squealbag, trying his best to fix her with a Wylla-Level Stare. "Shhh," He pleaded as she traipsed his body like it was her own personal junge-gym, her paws sifting deep into the folds of his skin and pulling, stretching, tugging -- until she at last cartwheeled down his clown-nose with one lobe roughly held in her mouth. "Yeaaaagh," Stag winced through clenched teeth, intent to not repeat his girlish yelp from last time. Arching his neck like an arabian offended by the offering of spoiled timothy hay, Stag held his gingerly smarting ears out of reach and presented Phaedra with one enormously large paw, attempting to gently swipe at her in play (and maybe keep her out of reach of any other tender parts).

Rather than jostling for a chance to venture the world at large, Thade chose instead to battle wakefulness after being unjustly disturbed. He was determined to return to his milknap, even after his bedfellows had forsaken him to a lonely pit, but no manner of repositioning could help him grasp unconsciousness. Not when the sounds of a playground were coming in from just outside. No one would call this fight fair.

So from where his sister had come out, ricocheting like a misfired phaser, the groggy brother came sluggishly after. He paused only to adjust to the light, while blearily assessing all parties involved. His first impulse was to crowd Wylla, yet he was overly distracted by all the noise, pushing him to investigate Phaedra's newest -- and loudest -- chewtoy.

He stretched out stumpy limbs (which may as well have been flippers at this point) as he aimed himself towards the pair. His dragging perked up into a trot as he got nearer, and he made no effort to slow down as he sought to drive his nose right up the smelliest part he could find on Stag.

joined by her brother, phaedra got a second wind of vigour. the synergy of two children with scythe-sharp teeth was hardly anything to compete with.
ahold of his ear, she tried to trawl it down to her level even more fiercely, because on the whole enfant terribles have no basic tenets of empathy for others. be that at is may, stag prized his ear from her indiana jones' temple-of-doom maw and wisely redirected her attention to his clownish tootsies. "oooo!" she chirruped. 
like a fish drawn to a wriggly worm on a hook, phaedra cratered to the earth in a playbow and yawed her head to pluck at his toes with nips and retreating snaps, imparting pintsized growls along the way.
it was a game she liked to call "bite u then zoom away before u can bite back u rude"
her interest in that was dampened though when thade began to re-reconnoiter the yearling, grubbing around for smelly things. although he would need to consider search engine optimization if he wanted to find the truly smelly smells, what with stag glued to the ground after his last unexpected deflowering.
lashthin tail aloft, the girl-child romped 'round the side of clownfeet and began to nibshit (because if her bro found something of recreation and held out on her, well, she would have a bigly case of FOMO, and there was a tempest in her teacup when it came to that sort of thing).
she sniffed alongside her brother, but found nothing worth her time and mouthed at thade's head, trying to draw him into a game of two-birds-one-stag. stag team the sucker. capture the stag.
y'know, the unfair type of bs games.

Sacrificing his paws for the sake of what resided under his undercarriage, Stag wriggled the digits on the end of his clownfeet as if they were truly little worms. With guppy-eyes, Phaedra rounded upon them like a years-starved goldfish, zeroing in for the toesie-kill when suddenly, a new contender arrived on the scene. "Ow," Stag mouthed as Phaedra made like a fox and darted for a toe only to retreat -- painful, but, Stag was more troubled by the determined look on Thade's face...

Stag's ears slid back in dread as he saw the tiny interloper approach, falling to a pursuing trot that would, in time, be positively terrifying. Bunching his toes underneath him and rounding his haunches, Stag presented the assailing children with naught but a toe to nibble. Sitting firmly atop such peetsies, he hoped the two of Wylla's little puppigators might find better targets elsewhere -- preferably just not on his body.

Loafin' it up, (and sharing much of the same expression seen here)  both the Teacup Terror and her devil brother would find Stag's fortress impenetrable -- up until one of their cold noses found one of his tickly spots.