i chose violence

Every night they all started out in a little huddle that their mother made sure Ichor was on top of, though why he couldn't say, and somehow every morning he woke up buried under at least one of his bigger siblings. Ichor was just starting to wake up, a whole carpet of Widow scented fur in his face when he felt a sharp pain on his wrist. Ichor twitched, his little pained gasp, more shock than real injury, muffled by his sister's pelt. He retracted his forelimb and started trying to detangle himself from the oppressive weight of the pile. He managed to start dragging himself out, looking rather flattened as he pulled himself along the ground, stomach pressed into the soft furs that made up the nest their mother had built for them. Viscera had already popped out, just the darkened tip of his tail visible as Ichor managed to finally pull himself free. His brother's beckoning words echoing in his head.

Ichor trotted up beside his significantly larger brother, tail beating the air over his rump. "What're we doing?" He asked, his voice squeaky and high as he trotted up, he leaned into Viscera's foreleg for a moment but his own dancing paws were so hard to still he had to recenter himself or he'd fall over.