NON HUMAN NARRATIVE
I Mother
The earth underground was warm and inviting. The kit felt fur nuzzle against it. Soft fur, her sibling’s coat. On her other side as well. She could hear mewls coming from each direction, her siblings, three of them. It was hard to move around them; her legs were wobbly and unable to find purchase on the soft earth. Her siblings mewling became slowly louder as the sound of something outside the den became louder. Claw scrapes and small yips emanating from the mother entering the den to feed the kits. All of them scrambled up to her belly, eager to nurse. The gently kneaded at her belly for her warm milk, the mother ensuring that everyone got their fair share of milk. The little girl finished first, her fat belly scraping the ground, legs barely supporting her milk-weight. Her eyes were still closed, a new baby to this world.
After a fortnight, the little girl’s eyes open, and they are blue, she is able to see her siblings and her mother. The siblings are all a muted gray, with small pink muzzles. Their ears are small just like their legs. They are able to give more voice to their calls to their mother, being able to mimic her language. They continue to drink their mother’s milk and crawl throughout the den, which no longer smelled of rabbits but now smelled of fox.
After two more weeks, the mother begins to bring prey she caught. Rabbits, voles, shrews, small rodents. These are already dead, and the kits begin to eat them, becoming weaned from their mother’s milk. The little girl enjoys the taste of the voles the best. Her siblings take turns devouring the rabbit, but she has her meal to herself. Their legs are becoming increasingly stronger, their eyes have started to turn a honey brown, and their coat is becoming more russet like their mother’s. They are able to wrestle and play within the den, the little girl is the dominant sibling. They still require their mother’s milk, especially after play-fighting.
After 4 more weeks, the little girl is romping around her den with her siblings, fully able to play without floundering, and in little need of her mother’s milk. Her mother now brings live prey for the kits to play with, letting their skills sharpen while they are still around the den. They now venture outside of the den, the little girl always going first. Voles are still her favorite, her mother brings them as often as she can find them. Her siblings still loved the ever-present rabbit. The air outside the den was fresh and there were many smells throughout the small tree marking their den. The little girl could smell where her mother walked that day, what other creatures dared venture close to their den opening, and the rain on the way.
After many moons of this repetitive action, the leaving the den, the eating live prey, the practicing of fighting skills, the air becoming hot and then cold, the little girl isn’t so little anymore. She is the same size as her mother now, and just as red. Herself and her siblings communicate via calls and yips, being able to tell each other what they need. However, the girl was becoming increasingly aggravated with her family. She wanted her own space, her own hunting grounds. She was able to find food easily for herself, as were her siblings. Her mother would constantly nip at her and her siblings, urging them out of their den. It’s almost as though the den didn’t smell like foxes anymore.
II Self
It has been some time since the girl left her mother and her siblings. The air has changed from cold to warm to cold again, and she has found her own space to roam. She no longer needs the safety of a den, as she is prepared at all times to flee or fight if need be. The earth below her paws was hers, as were the voles she favorited. Her bed consisted of soft leaves and grasses and changed if she felt her area had been disturbed by something larger. Her new home was what she needed, although there were larger furless beings who walked on two legs and had coats of bright colors who tromped through her territory. These scared her the most, they made loud noises and called to each other in gruff noises
When the air becomes cold, they come out. The two-legged beings with their loud sticks. This happened to the girl, who was peacefully resting when the light shone through the leaves. The leaves crunched around her, waking her from her rest. It was not her time to be awake, she immediately recognized this was not the grazing deer, but something unnatural in her home. She carefully lifted her head, and she saw the orange coats of the two-legged beings approaching her resting spot. She looked to her other side and saw another one. She rose gently from her bedding, and darted as fast as she could away from them, but in the direction they were heading. She could hear them yell, but they didn’t hasten their steps. She could hear them continue to be steady…steady…until they stopped altogether. She looked over her shoulder and she could make out the orange coat, but it was very still. She looked ahead of her, and in front of her was a tall deer with large antlers. It had noticed her but paid her no mind. She looked back over her shoulder and she could see the two-legs moving slowly towards her again, propping large sticks against the shoulders. She waited behind a tree, nestling into the dead leaves and roots of the tree, hoping she was hidden. The loud she heard next shook her bones, as an explosion went off from the two-leg’s stick. The deer in front of her immediately shot up and began running away from the orange coats. She followed suit, running as fast as her legs could carry her away from them. She couldn’t keep pace with the deer, but she eventually caught up. Its eyes were wide in fear and its tail was raised, the white under fluff displayed prominently. The deer was still on alert, so the girl found another hiding spot, this one was familiar to her. As she ducked into the burrow, she immediately recognized it as her home when she was a kit. The earth felt like a forgotten memory, kept safe over time. She hid as well as she could and began to try to rest.
Not soon after she closed her eyes, she heard another bang, this one felt on top of her, shaking the den. She felt a ways away something large hit the earth, and she assumed it was the deer. She felt the two-legs move away from her den, hooting at each other in some language she didn’t understand. She stayed as still as she could, not knowing if they could sense her like she could sense them. She felt a couple two-legs walk away from her, but suddenly one of the sticks they carried thrust itself inside of her den. She instantly recoiled, knowing that was what made the loud noise. The two-leg shouted to the others and after a few moments withdrew the stick. The girl was shaking, knowing she had survived this predator.
After waiting a while, what seemed like seasons, she emerged from the familiar den and began to walk back to her territory to hunt for the night to feed herself.
III Mother
The air was crisp, and the girl was round. Following her was a boy, a much deeper russet than her and his ear had torn in two places. This was the sire of her kits. He remained close to her flank, unfamiliar with this side of the trees. She, however, knew where she was going. The den she remembered was not too far outside her own territory, and she trudged her way to it, hoping it was not already taken. She has previously searched for burrows in her own territory, but none were suitable for what she needed. She thought back to her seasons as a gray child, learning how to interact with the world, and back to when the two-legs chased her into the hole. The den had proven to be a safe home, as she had grown up in it and it had protected her later in life. It had proven its usefulness. She led the boy through the trees with abundant leaves on their boughs and branches, until she reached the den she had called home before. She carefully approached it, nose in the air. She smelled voles and deer and rabbits, there was no scent of fox or other things she was scared of. She motioned to the boy that this was safe, and she headed inside, molding the earth with her paws.
Soon after, four gray mewling kits emerged from her, and they eagerly began to knead her stomach for milk. Her instincts began to come to life, and she gently moved her kits to their proper stations, ensuring they were all fed to their fill. She poked at each of them, and the first one done feeding was a little gray girl. The little girl turned over and fell asleep, while the mother fell asleep beside her.
The earth underground was warm and inviting. The kit felt fur nuzzle against it. Soft fur, her sibling’s coat. On her other side as well. She could hear mewls coming from each direction, her siblings, three of them. It was hard to move around them; her legs were wobbly and unable to find purchase on the soft earth. Her siblings mewling became slowly louder as the sound of something outside the den became louder. Claw scrapes and small yips emanating from the mother entering the den to feed the kits. All of them scrambled up to her belly, eager to nurse. The gently kneaded at her belly for her warm milk, the mother ensuring that everyone got their fair share of milk. The little girl finished first, her fat belly scraping the ground, legs barely supporting her milk-weight. Her eyes were still closed, a new baby to this world.
After a fortnight, the little girl’s eyes open, and they are blue, she is able to see her siblings and her mother. The siblings are all a muted gray, with small pink muzzles. Their ears are small just like their legs. They are able to give more voice to their calls to their mother, being able to mimic her language. They continue to drink their mother’s milk and crawl throughout the den, which no longer smelled of rabbits but now smelled of fox.
After two more weeks, the mother begins to bring prey she caught. Rabbits, voles, shrews, small rodents. These are already dead, and the kits begin to eat them, becoming weaned from their mother’s milk. The little girl enjoys the taste of the voles the best. Her siblings take turns devouring the rabbit, but she has her meal to herself. Their legs are becoming increasingly stronger, their eyes have started to turn a honey brown, and their coat is becoming more russet like their mother’s. They are able to wrestle and play within the den, the little girl is the dominant sibling. They still require their mother’s milk, especially after play-fighting.
After 4 more weeks, the little girl is romping around her den with her siblings, fully able to play without floundering, and in little need of her mother’s milk. Her mother now brings live prey for the kits to play with, letting their skills sharpen while they are still around the den. They now venture outside of the den, the little girl always going first. Voles are still her favorite, her mother brings them as often as she can find them. Her siblings still loved the ever-present rabbit. The air outside the den was fresh and there were many smells throughout the small tree marking their den. The little girl could smell where her mother walked that day, what other creatures dared venture close to their den opening, and the rain on the way.
After many moons of this repetitive action, the leaving the den, the eating live prey, the practicing of fighting skills, the air becoming hot and then cold, the little girl isn’t so little anymore. She is the same size as her mother now, and just as red. Herself and her siblings communicate via calls and yips, being able to tell each other what they need. However, the girl was becoming increasingly aggravated with her family. She wanted her own space, her own hunting grounds. She was able to find food easily for herself, as were her siblings. Her mother would constantly nip at her and her siblings, urging them out of their den. It’s almost as though the den didn’t smell like foxes anymore.
II Self
It has been some time since the girl left her mother and her siblings. The air has changed from cold to warm to cold again, and she has found her own space to roam. She no longer needs the safety of a den, as she is prepared at all times to flee or fight if need be. The earth below her paws was hers, as were the voles she favorited. Her bed consisted of soft leaves and grasses and changed if she felt her area had been disturbed by something larger. Her new home was what she needed, although there were larger furless beings who walked on two legs and had coats of bright colors who tromped through her territory. These scared her the most, they made loud noises and called to each other in gruff noises
When the air becomes cold, they come out. The two-legged beings with their loud sticks. This happened to the girl, who was peacefully resting when the light shone through the leaves. The leaves crunched around her, waking her from her rest. It was not her time to be awake, she immediately recognized this was not the grazing deer, but something unnatural in her home. She carefully lifted her head, and she saw the orange coats of the two-legged beings approaching her resting spot. She looked to her other side and saw another one. She rose gently from her bedding, and darted as fast as she could away from them, but in the direction they were heading. She could hear them yell, but they didn’t hasten their steps. She could hear them continue to be steady…steady…until they stopped altogether. She looked over her shoulder and she could make out the orange coat, but it was very still. She looked ahead of her, and in front of her was a tall deer with large antlers. It had noticed her but paid her no mind. She looked back over her shoulder and she could see the two-legs moving slowly towards her again, propping large sticks against the shoulders. She waited behind a tree, nestling into the dead leaves and roots of the tree, hoping she was hidden. The loud she heard next shook her bones, as an explosion went off from the two-leg’s stick. The deer in front of her immediately shot up and began running away from the orange coats. She followed suit, running as fast as her legs could carry her away from them. She couldn’t keep pace with the deer, but she eventually caught up. Its eyes were wide in fear and its tail was raised, the white under fluff displayed prominently. The deer was still on alert, so the girl found another hiding spot, this one was familiar to her. As she ducked into the burrow, she immediately recognized it as her home when she was a kit. The earth felt like a forgotten memory, kept safe over time. She hid as well as she could and began to try to rest.
Not soon after she closed her eyes, she heard another bang, this one felt on top of her, shaking the den. She felt a ways away something large hit the earth, and she assumed it was the deer. She felt the two-legs move away from her den, hooting at each other in some language she didn’t understand. She stayed as still as she could, not knowing if they could sense her like she could sense them. She felt a couple two-legs walk away from her, but suddenly one of the sticks they carried thrust itself inside of her den. She instantly recoiled, knowing that was what made the loud noise. The two-leg shouted to the others and after a few moments withdrew the stick. The girl was shaking, knowing she had survived this predator.
After waiting a while, what seemed like seasons, she emerged from the familiar den and began to walk back to her territory to hunt for the night to feed herself.
III Mother
The air was crisp, and the girl was round. Following her was a boy, a much deeper russet than her and his ear had torn in two places. This was the sire of her kits. He remained close to her flank, unfamiliar with this side of the trees. She, however, knew where she was going. The den she remembered was not too far outside her own territory, and she trudged her way to it, hoping it was not already taken. She has previously searched for burrows in her own territory, but none were suitable for what she needed. She thought back to her seasons as a gray child, learning how to interact with the world, and back to when the two-legs chased her into the hole. The den had proven to be a safe home, as she had grown up in it and it had protected her later in life. It had proven its usefulness. She led the boy through the trees with abundant leaves on their boughs and branches, until she reached the den she had called home before. She carefully approached it, nose in the air. She smelled voles and deer and rabbits, there was no scent of fox or other things she was scared of. She motioned to the boy that this was safe, and she headed inside, molding the earth with her paws.
Soon after, four gray mewling kits emerged from her, and they eagerly began to knead her stomach for milk. Her instincts began to come to life, and she gently moved her kits to their proper stations, ensuring they were all fed to their fill. She poked at each of them, and the first one done feeding was a little gray girl. The little girl turned over and fell asleep, while the mother fell asleep beside her.
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