Rising Sun

Any of the family, or those that would be nearby. @Ira @Hieronymous @Petra
Four-five weeks

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 The world was bright and strange. From his beginnings, he had found it warm and comfortable, though perhaps not as nice as the early times. He was able now to stand on all four legs, wobbling with cautious steps to and fro as he explored the interior of the den.
 Someone had made it nice. It held soft bedding that was changed as often as they needed it. Though he didn't know it, it was also well-guarded in the interior of the mountains. Their mother and others had just started to begin bringing solid, regurgitated food back to the at the den's entry. He had tried this sampling yesterday and had frankly decided he didn't like it and far preferred his mother's readily available milk.
 That morning, he moved about early, wobbling toward the den's entrance to smell as he explored new senses. The sun was rising. It held an orange glint in his poor vision, and he promptly balked, falling backwards and whining noisily. “GAH!” he said, among a pile of mostly nonsense. “NO.”

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Sleep came in light spouts between the needs of her brood. The exhaustion setting in was something she had long since forgotten with her last litter and now the High Queen was forced to relive those days as she was woken once more by a child-like cry. Groggily the mother cracked her eyes open to see her toppled-over son just beside the den's entrance.

Her young felt particularly adventurous this year, though their paws were far too unstable to rise any concerns quite yet. However, if she was not careful they'd be racing past in the blink of an eye. Carefully she would shuffle away from the two that slumbered peacefully to make her way to Andor; a kiss pressed to his temple as she helped right him. “Eager are we? Your time will come.”

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 At the kiss, he delighted as all babies do, but he responded by promptly mouthing at his mother's chin with newly developing teeth. He growled as he did this, thinking for the moment that his mother was only interested in playing with him instead of making sure he and the others weren't getting into mischief.
 Andor was in what might be called a "teddy bear" phase of his life, but strictly because with his small ears, fuzzy brown body, and wobbly nature, he looked like a bear. He was still figuring out his teeth, so he promptly tried at chewing whatever part of his mother that he could reach. “Nahm nahrg ma ma nah,” he said between growls.

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No cries came from the babe, only delight as he quickly began to mouth at her with small growls. Clearly taking the stumble had not bothered him as Andor swiftly shift gears bringing a light smile to the mother's lips. “My my, you should learn to pick your battles.” For now she would allow his gnawing as she reached with a paw in a light attempt to topple the boy once more so that she might nudge at his belly. “Just because you are my own does not mean you will have mercy.” Of course her words held no meaning to the young boy yet, but it would not stop her from monologuing for her own enjoyment.

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 His ears twitched as his mother spoke, but he didn't understand what she was saying. There were so many sounds and words in the world, and he knew none of them! What was much more annoying was how much she didn't understand what he was saying when he tried to tell her things. It was getting quickly more complicated than "food," "dirty," or "cuddles needed."
 Mama moved her paw and pushed him, and he did not love this, but merely mrrd at the scenario as he wobbled and did not topple. He used it as a test to his balance, which worked great right up until it didn't, where he took many confident steps before stumbling and falling again on the uneven ground of the den.
 He charged again toward her, turning around and pushing forward in protest. “MAH MAH RAH Walfbgja Gaba Maga!” he exclaimed, almost entirely in play even though it was so mean how she did that.. thing. He opened his mouth with his needle sharp teeth and went right for her tail, which seemed like the most obvious play choice.

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Of course her words went over his head, but they had never truly been intended for his ears as he was. One day he would understand and perhaps speaking as if he did early would aid his learning, but today would be filled with garbled responses. Andor would not be tipped so casually, and up until he had been, was rather resilient. The young boy traveled onward until his paws would fail him, and only then did he turn and charge with pup-like fury.

Ira made no attempts to dodge his tiny jaws, fully braced for the small pain that would bloom if his teeth found skin. All in all, he was rather harmless even if he managed to hit somewhere tender. The roan woman would flick her tail idly, almost like a cat as he looked to latch on. Rather or not he did, she would continue to let her tail sway to see if he would be dislodged or attempt to follow it.

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Closing this out pre-maturely because these nuggets grow too fast

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 The bushy thing stuck to Mom's butt moved with swiftness that he had not encountered. It fascinated him and even though the fluffy brute smacked away from his tiny mouth, he did not give into its wily wills. Quickly he babbled at it, “brah brah”, and moved to and fro, wandering from place to place with it like a small cat. Unable to lock his target, he shimmied with an open mouth, sloppily toppling and slapping his feet from point to point.
 Every so often he would catch a hair or even a mouthful of fur, to his utter delight. He played in this way for as long as he could stand it, before eventually falling over and willing into a nap once again.
 To date this was his life. Napping, eating, and play. For the most part, it was pleasant.

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