He wouldn’t mind being just like his mum, either; a smart and kind wolf, loving towards her family. Maybe he’d be like both of them. He hadn’t a single clue about genetics, about inheriting certain traits from one’s parents. All he knew was that Ice and Corinna were his parents and he loved them.
Corinna gently nudged at him with her nose and he trotted forwards a little, only he had forgotten “his” kill. Only when his mother stopped and turned to look at him did he realise. Whoops! A little sheepish grin found its way onto his face as he backed up to pick up the pheasant. Once it was firmly in his grasp, he once again began to scamper forwards, following his mum at the heels. They walked together and Sceral occasionally had to stop to readjust his hold on the big bird before jogging (and occasionally stumbling) to catch up with his mother. He wasn’t small anymore, and he’d only get bigger, but he was clumsy on his big paws. That, and he’d never really carried something in his mouth that didn’t fit like a stick.
Then his mother stopped and Sceral watched excitedly as she lowered her nose and sniffed around, almost dramatically. He almost tried to mimic her, though all he could do was smell the pheasant wedged into his gob. So he followed behind her, tail wagging the whole time, until mum announced they had to dig. Good! Sceral loved digging! Leaping over in bounds, like a wonky deer, he was soon drawing up next to her and getting stuck in with the task at hand. He kicked up the dirt behind him, grinning into his feathery prize.