The world was on fire.

Beyond the threshold of the Queen's whelping den, little Maral played quietly. She'd gathered a bundle of small objects on the ground before her - twigs, pebbles, the shell of a snail, a number of tiny bones, various pointless things she collected - and examined each with great curiosity. Her oversized ears twitched to all the sounds of the forest as a breeze swept through branches and rustled their leaves; somewhere close by, a doe rummaged for berries.

She was content with her own company, safe in knowing that her littermates lounged within the burrow and their mother was not far, but... something, suddenly, unnerved her. Wide, stormy eyes glanced around and studied the spaces between the surrounding trees, which began to darken. Maral whimpered softly, confused, and gathered to her paws. The world around her grew still, silent, and she noticed the bark begin to drip with crimson. A shadow lurked, and all she saw was a gleam of ivory fangs -

She woke from her first night terror with a start, jaws parted in a terrified yowl that would likely wake her littermates. Her little body trembled with fear and she pulled herself upright, accidentally stepping on @Aldritch and @Warwick as she fumbled around in a desperate search of comfort from @Célnes. She felt a chill on her left launch and backside where the air cooled an uncomfortable dampness there but did not halt to realise she'd wet herself in her sleep.


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The burl knots of the little one's ears had slowly opened up to the world's voice of silent flora and sonorous fauna. Like the sing-song of Mothers’ words that would invite him out of the coziest of sleep, and the clamorous littermates were the unwelcome alarm clock that he’d oft wake up to with a groan.
Today was one of those days, as the siren of a sisters’ unhappiness shrieked into his drums, awakening him from his food-induced sleep. The sovereign had used his younger sister @Rohesia as a comforting pillow.

With angry eyes, he looked upon the girl who made such a racket just as she made to clamber unsteadily over both him and his brother.
’S-stop’, he trialed his own voice, determined to let her know of his discomfort and annoyance as a foot of hers pedaled right onto his very full stomach. A baby bark sharply bit out in pain toward her whilst she moved away, -- out of the reach of his following snap. 

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As they were children there was times they would wet the bed, but the incidents were so small that the Queen felt they outgrew it. Sleeping night, comfort in a pile of warmth as she held them closely, and the snores settled upon the den. Though a cool breeze would swipe through, and a feeling of wetness - but all was ignored when she popped her head upright, hearing the of her daughter.

Maral sought comfort and Celnes took her between her paws, a slight look of confusion but a gentle series of licks. It was rare for this daughter to be like so, normally stoic, silence and brooding as her looks would present ; so similar to her father that it may of seemed a monster would even slip within. So her marks would claim, whitely smudged around to determine that prophecy as customs would say. Yet in the end, she was her daughter.

Now she had to calm the rest too as the slumbering litter of noisy children were soon to wake, Warwick being the first - it seems he was stepped on.

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As she stumbled over the sleeping bodies of her siblings in her desperate search for mother's comfort, she did not care that her whimpering and misplaced paws might rouse them. That they might be frustrated with her did not even cross her mind; the yowling lessened to soft cries, at last, when her stormy eyes at last found the face of her provider. 

To her she went willingly, welcomed into the space beneath her chin. Maral pressed in close, muzzle buried among silken tresses of her dam's throat, and there she was quick to quieten. 

The trauma of her nightmare passed swiftly, though the reminder of it chilled on her flank. Initially puzzled, she came to realise that she'd urinated on herself. Her little body trembled against the cold, with the shame of it, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to hide her face from the glaring orbs of her littermates that were surely upon her for such an upset.


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The clatter of milky canines was heard once his nip bit into the dark, thin air. His sister now moving toward the protective bosom of their dam, and he eyed her, cross with her disrupting his sleep so abruptly.
 
It wasn’t until his little nose twitched and screwed at the unquestionable smell of ammonia did he stick his tongue out, repulsed by the wetness that she’d dragged across him. Wide-eyed and horrified, he yowled.
‘M-m-maral peed on me!’, he’d make sure it was announced to those that hadn’t yet roused from the midnight charades.

Now it was his turn to clamber over the scattered bodies and find the comfort of his mother, hoping she’d rid the icky mess on him. ‘MOTHER, look!’, a tantrum-come-grumpy face pouted up at his dam, mortified by his findings.

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"Yes yes," she would've hoped they would all remain silent.. Though Warwick was rather quick to be displeased and announce her daughters embarrassment. She curled closely to Celnes, and all she could do was but sigh as the rest would awaken, and also would notice the accident Maral had caused. Though they all couldn't lay in it forever. There was but a bit of moss that covered as a blanket, and even then the ground itself was also damp.

She motioned upwards, though had @Maral in her mouth, "Come now, we all must gather new bedding. An adventure to the grotto?"

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Mother smelled of warmth, of comfort. Little Maral mouthed at the longer furs of her chest and gathered a tuft onto her tongue, which she tried to suckle on. No milk would flow, she knew that, but the motion was still a balm to a babe so young.

Warwick's complaint was heard, and Maral pulled her hind limbs in close. She tucked her dark tail and emitted a muffled whine. Her attempt to self-soothe came to an abrupt end, as the Queen gathered to her feet and collected the urine-soaked cub between her jaws.

Maral, instinctively, drew her forepaws to her chin and went limp in her mother's mouth. She didn't like it, to be held above her siblings in such a manner where they were all free to glare upon her, and she squeezed her stormy eyes shut to block out the sight if them.


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He wasn’t pleased with how dismissive his dam was to his state. He turned away to find some moss, that was unspoiled by his sisters' urine. And abruptly threw himself to the ground, squirming and writhing to rid the substance from his coat, — since his mother didn’t want to clean it.
 
By the time he finished, he followed the rest of the litter that had already left and noticed the shame in Maral as she hung limp within Mothers grasp. Had he not been so grumpy about the whole ordeal, he would’ve perhaps pointed and laughed at the ridicule of his dear sister still treated as a newborn.
 
He was close to voicing his disapproval of cleaning their bed during the middle of the night, but as the fresh rain speckled on his nose, he realised they were off on a midnight adventure. He glanced around and tried to hold back from the rest, being the last of the string to follow mother.

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She continued carrying Maral for some time, and looked down at her daughter who seemingly look in shame. At least most did not make fun of her, rather they seemed to be more focused on their midnight 'adventure.' Yet that was a simple cover for to gather help to get more moss that was no longer stained by others. Sometimes she would keep a stock nearby, thanks to the woman of Elkshire.. Though as they grown she felt there was no need.

That was a mistake.

Dropping Maral in front of the entrances door, a slope that goes downward into a darkness.. Lightning, streaked across the sky. Noiseless as it was, it brought a light to the moss covered grove, "Be careful, the Exalted Grotto has many stray rocks."

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Célnes, with a babe hoisted high above ground, stepped out into the night. She led her brood between the trees and the air felt fresh to Maral's delicate, exposed undersides. She wanted to pull her hind limbs close, but instinct within her mother's grasp was not to move at all.

When at last they reached their destination, she was returned to the ground. With her tail tucked firm to her backside, Maral nervously licked her chops and stayed close to Mom, leaning her sodden flank against a strong hind limb.


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casually ignores the man and torch in the photo

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The duke held back, taking his time as they all herded after mother. It wasn’t often they were permitted to leave the royal den come dusk. So he immersed himself in the night, watching the shadows of the trees dance and rustle with the shift in the weather.
 
It all appeared so... differently, and almost unrecognizable. But he wasn't able to window-shop too long, as the sovereign noticed the gathering were up ahead but not by far, and he hastened to keep up. A bolt of silent lightning would encourage his momentum as they were filing in one-by-one into another hidden den.

He ran in and tripped over a rock, completely unmindful his dam just forewarned them all. He fell into the side of a brother, but composed himself with a shake and ruffle after, probably getting a nip for doing so. 

It wasn't the cosy den he was accustomed to, but it was better than the wet bed they'd just left. 

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Unlike her brother she didn't comment when it happened and only looked at her sister with pity. Though she was a bit groggy for being woken up so early, and gave an exhausted yawn. Yet trying to go back to sleep in a damp bed would not due, and even their mother saw that and swiftly told them to go and help. Unbothered though, she wobbled in a following of the group while led to the grotto.. It was the first time Vermillion entered though, and she curiously continued to paw the moss with a titled head.

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As Maral stayed close to herself, Warwick had run off. She then decided to start grooming the soaked daughter, she was already embarrassed enough and seemed rather anxious about the situation ; but Celnes wouldn't ignore her in this time of need. Though as she was grooming, she could hear the stumbling of her eldest around. A raised brow during the bath while looking at his fallen figure, and a graze against another, "Careful, you haven't grown into your paws just yet."

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The shadowy girl watched shyly as her siblings toddled forward, deeper into the Grotto, seemingly eager to explore. Part of her yearned to go with them, to nose around this new place and see what treasures it had to offer, but her mother manoeuvred to scoop her close.

The Queen set about smoothing the unkempt furs of her soiled cub's hindquarters, sure to give her a thorough cleaning. Maral mewled softly, a strange sound from one usually so silent, and she drew comfort from the nearness of her dam.


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Like a naughty child, only half an ear was bothered enough to catch another of his mother's warnings. He was too occupied rummaging about, nose straight into the moss sponges. Unaware of what his other siblings were up to, and if they were too sleepy to carry out their mission for the night.
 
Finding a patch at the back of the pitch-black grotto, he started to frantically dig and paw, moss now flinging behind him, catapulting in all directions, as he gathered the new bedding. Oblivious if any were to slap his littermates or even his mother in the face, he was doing his job right now and boy was he enjoying it. Dig dig dig dig dig dig.
 
When he thought he’d done enough and exhausted himself so, he scooped up a generous mouthful and danced his way over to his mother in a boisterous pride. ‘Wiw vis do?’, will this do, he tried to get across to her, with the plump green things protruding out of his mouth.

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As she finished up cleaning that of Maral, she nosed her daughter to venture forth. It was a rare moment to hear that of her daughter, normally so reserved and quiet.. Yet she too made mistakes and continued to be embarrassed, it brought a chuckle not of scorn or shame but of love and warmth as she nudged her daughter gently, before turning to Warwick. He held a bundle of moss, and her eyes crossed to his dirty body from the digging of so.

Though, she was proud he did so, as Celnes noted in the distance of Vermillion simply pawing at the moss, rather then gathering, "Perfect," she said, "take your sisters to gather more," and leaned over to give his head a loving lick.

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