Oak Tree Bend And all the girls say I'm pretty fly for a white guy

With a start and a snort, the sole Donata son awoke from a dream. Within mere seconds, all memory of it slipped from his mind and he greeted the dark world of the den with a wide yawn punctuated by a quiet whistle from his nose. Whatever the dream was about—and surely it was about something either frightening or exciting, for Corsair's little heart was still racing—it no longer mattered. The light filtering into the den was enough to keep the three-week-old from drifting back to sleep.

In moments he was on his feet, toddling about the den and snuffling his family members. He could see them clearly even in the gloom and he was beginning to develop the ability to recognize them and differentiate them. In the beginning they were all a singular Other, a something-ness apart from himself, but now they were individuals. As with every other morning recently, Corsair made a beeline straight for the smaller ones. His interest was in them rather than the outside world.

With a growl verging on a squeak, Corsair hastened toward his sisters, only to promptly trip over his paws and go tumbling for them with little knowledge of how to stop himself.

When the world stopped spinning, Corsair found himself on his back with his rump halfway up on one or another of his sisters. Being on belly-up wasn't a new experience, but it was one he'd grown to dislike. Not only was it an instinct ingrained deeply in his wolf's heart, but it was also a difficult position to get out of. He didn't yet understand all the physics of his body, and often spent a great deal of time rocking side-to-side to no avail when he found himself like this. Getting out of his predicament came easier today than it had even a few days ago, but his recovery wasn't quick enough to save him from the fury of his smaller sister.

He had only just managed to get on his side and prop his head up when a flurry of paws descended on his head. Once or twice, her needle sharp puppy nails scraped across his sensitive muzzle and nose, and soon enough he was growling and whining and gaping his jaws in hopes of catching one of her feet in his mouth. He leaned his head back as far as it would go, folded ears flopping back, and snatched clumsily at the air with his milk teeth, but Ayla proved much faster than him. Her fury was a hurricane that he couldn't keep up with, and soon enough he growled his frustration and confusion, then shoved his body forward to try to subdue her assault with sheer force.

Not that he had a whole lot of that, but Corsair would try, damnit.

The smaller cub fell away beneath his might and Corsair crowed a victorious note as he flopped down on her once more. Ayla was tiny at this age, at least compared to his considerable bulk, and he ought to have no trouble keeping her tethered. He wriggled atop his younger sister, seeking an opening through which he could attack her face with slobbery lashes of his tongue, but she proved the swifter and wilier of the two. Her paws kept him at bay until the moment he felt her shift beneath him, and then she was free,
and he was throwing his little legs out to catch himself.

With a surprised grumble, Corsair turned and locked on to his redheaded sibling and his whippish tail flung side-to-side as he measured her up. She'd grounded herself. He was far too young and inexperienced to understand what it meant or how her new position might disadvantage him, so he did what he did best: he charged again, coming at her with a puppy's bounding gait and tossing his head all about like a fussing stallion. Surely she would fall under his strength once more, for he was Corsair! strongest of all pups, and he was a Donata to boot.