Blacktail Deer Plateau show no mercy to the pure

The boy was very still; extra still when he was being groomed, though the steady rise and fall of his chest would indicate life still within him. It was soothing to be groomed, though. He didn't hear, couldn't tell that his sister had been displeased. To him, it was bonding and it was growing; he was learning from it. Learning what the pleasure of parental contact was, the affection that was brewed gently from the sensation of fur being swiped by a tender tongue.

His body only started moved in protest when the milky one left. The scent was immediately noticeable as not being present. Though he liked the other one well enough (Warm-Different was the only way his puppy brain could describe his father), he liked the milky one best. Because, clearly, she had the milk.

He raised his head to seek the milk, wondering if perhaps he had merely lost his sense of smell because who knew where smells came from anyway? His nose collided with fur and he started to search with his little mouth for a teat. Unaware that it was his sister's soft fur that he was investigating, not his mother's or even his father's.