Indigo's first few weeks were spent crawling blindly around her birth den, frequently bumping into her mother. When her eyes opened, she went from blindly exploring to stumbling. When the rounded dirt walls became familiar, the young girl moved to that bright circle that her mother would sometimes disappear into. From it came smells unfamiliar to her, and sounds that made her want to poke her head out. Sometimes she even saw shadows cross the entrance, large enough to send her skittering back across the floor and bury her head into her mother's belly.
Now she was straining with curiosity. She had not been given permission to leave the den just yet. Her mother came back smelling of the outside and that drove her closer and closer to the entrance. She was positively wiggly just thinking about being able to go roll in all those interesting smells.
Indigo sat only a few steps from the yawning mouth of the den. If she craned her head, her nose might pop out into the strange, fresh air. Her tail wagged behind her.