All welcome, late morning, A few clouds, 26C/78F turned to sudden thunderstorms. Marrah is approximately 8 weeks old
All that remains is the faces and the names
Marrah’s confidence had been squashed more than once by the weather, and as such had taken to hanging out only at the den. If Mama persisted she would follow and go, but even that was taking more and more negotiation these days. Her siblings were not haunted by the same hangups she had noticed, but even their confidence could not quell her phobia.
Today would do nothing but solidify those worries. Marrah had been laying pleasantly in the shade nearby their whelping den, which the children had almost outgrown. It was too hot for the sun, for sure but the girl was making her own game. She had found a stray nugget of fool’s gold near the den, rocky on one side and glimmering on the other. It was a lot of fun to bat it with her paw as hard as she could and see if it landed rock or gold up, everytime it was gold she got a point. There were no other players so really she was guaranteed to win.
The weather, as always, had other plans for Marrah, there would be no games this morning. What had been a perfectly pleasant morning suddenly morphed into dark clouds and booming thunder, complete with sheets of rain. The girl squealed in fear and threw herself back into the cub den, sobbing hysterically in fear. How come this always happened to her?
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.