Qanik

in defense of the innocent

Her recovery had been slow, but Gossamir's intervention as she lay unconscious had saved her from bleeding out and leaving her children to starve. The younger wolf had even hunted for her for a while, though now that the pups were getting older Qanik was able to hunt for herself, even insisted on it to allow Gossamir to move on with her life, though even a month was not quite long enough for her to have fully recovered from the difficult birth. Gossamir had broken the news to her that the damage done to her body was great enough that this would be the only litter she would bear, but since she had long ago resigned herself to never having even the one litter the news was not as bad as it could have been. Miksa and Shtiya were growing well, her two beautiful children, and they were all that mattered to her. She did sometimes have strange, confused dreams of a little girl crying out to her, being born away from her by some pale monster, but believing them to be a product of the fever dreams while she was first recovering, she'd never spoken of them to Gossamir or anyone.

Sticking her nose from the den, she sampled the air. Warm, clear, and no scent of predator or scavenger tainted the air to cause worry. It was a good day for the pups to get their first trip outside of the den. "Miksa, Shtiya," she murmured, nuzzling the pups awake. "Come with me." With a smile she beckoned to them with her tail before slipping from the den.



.

cowardice is the only sin

Sleep was a wonderful thing. Miksa possibly enjoyed it the most out of his present lifestyle, the chance to lie down and rest with his brother and his mother close by, their combined warmth making him cozy and content. And then there were the dreams. They fascinated him more than anything, always making him eager and excited for the chance to have the next. They were not always consistent, not always dependable, nor were they always nice, but it did not chance his opinion on them.

Because of his great like for it, Miksa was slow to rouse at his mother's nuzzles, making a soft noise even as he curled more tightly in on himself, as if sheltering from the waking world for a moment longer. But the veil between sleep and wakefulness had already started to draw back, alerting him to the warmth of his mother's tone as she spoke his name and Shtiya's and instructed them to follow her. Small, soft ears folding back against his head, the boy dared to blink open his bright yellow eyes and peer after his mother as she left the den, the wag of her tail inviting them to follow.

Suddenly sleep no longer seemed the most exciting bit of his life anymore. Outside? He had only ever stared at the place before, safe within the confines of the den and quite content to be there too. The forests outside seemed so big and intimidating, the world so vast that he feared becoming lost in it. But mother went there sometimes, and she did always managed to return safely. Maybe, since she was going out there first...it would not be as scary as he feared.

Hastily the mostly white pup pulled himself to his paws and practically bounded in his hurry to stay close on his mother's heels, afraid that if she got out of his sight that he would become lost just like in his worried daydreams. His small frame just about got in the way of her paws with how close he stayed beside his mother, and only a cautious but curious glance was sent in his brother's direction, wondering whether he would be as quick or excited to venture beyond the den with their mother.

Three little words were all it took to release the boy upon the world. Immediately Shtiya was bustling passed his mom to get a good look at what lay behind the den mouth. He stopped just beyond the entrance to the only place he'd ever known. His mouth fell open, mismatched eyes widening and darting from thing to thing in an attempt to gaze upon everything. It was so big, so gloriously, endless and wild and open. It blew his tiny world apart and with it, the limitations of his mind. Shtyia was so wholly speechless that all he could do was lift boulder-sized eyes to his mother face while his mouth remained open in a very good impersonation of a fly trap.

He wanted to sample everything; to taste and touch and investigate until his heart gave out. The boy wanted to run and shout, to climb on all the things and poke his face into as many holes as he could find. His young mind was assaulted with question after question; with each new thing that his gaze settled upon, a new query was added to the list. He was so torn over what to do next that all he was capable of was awed staring.