Mother's den is no longer the one in which I and my fellow brood were born and raised. This particular den is in a more appealing location than ours had been, at least by most wolven standards. For the blood-thirsting demoness of pewter and gold filagree, it was purely of too much sunlight. But I do not forget the cold and the damp and the dark of the Grotto. The Grotto where I and my sister and brother were conceived. Where we were born.... Born of Darkness. Of things that go bump in the night. Sparked to Life by our father's seed and our mother's womb and possessed by the Souls of the three demons which plagued our mother's mind. It was only later that Stella drug us to this arid place of sand and bright sky. But I do not forget my origins. Canines crush into the spine of my toy, resulting in a nasty popping sound as vertebrae are snapped beneath the pressure of my vice-like jaws and more liquid elixer coats the palette of my mouth with the thick ruddy merlot of the Fox's life-blood. Dark pupiless spheres stare unblinking upon the tenebrae of mother's coat of multi-faceted shadows. Expression remains stoic and relatively emotionless, but for the nearly indiscernable sway of my plush brindled tail as she emerges from her den and approaches.

Obsidian hackles bristle out of instinct, one lip peeling back in a visceral sneer as instinct dictates I protect that which is mine. Keep what I kill. And if it had been any other, mandibles would have instantly forsaken the limp corpse to rend and rip at the face of any who'd be so brazen as to take it from me. But this is not any other, and so I stay my body, and keep silent the snarl which threatens to echo up my larynx. Instead I release my scarlett gift into her keeping. By now, I am taller than my predecessor by a scant couple of inches, composed of the same wide-set chest and shoulders, but sporting a sleeker more streamlined torso akin to that of the grandmother I've never met. I meet Stella's gaze and watch her with my own Furian smolder as she drops the carrion to her paws where it can wait to be devoured later, and steps close to brush her muzzle against my cheek.

A stark rumbling growl of pleasure is ilicited with that single contact, raw and unadulterated like the purr of a tiger. My muzzle tilts into her, fangs nipping sharply, roughly.... but affectionate in their own right, at the nape of her skull just behind her ear. Mother circles me then, and I let my teeth continue to trail through the thick fur along her spine as she passes. I do not miss the swell of her sides, nor the scent of that male from the den upon her hide. When she comes full circle, she finally greets me with a singular crisp word.

Pink tongue emerges to rasp across my lower lip, tasting the salt from her skin upon it as I smirk. "Mother" A reply that in every aspect mimics her mother's dulcet timber. But my attention has already been diverted. Cryptic eyes having already scoped passed the visage of my matron to the white shadow that stalks her from behind. Once more nigrescent mohawk flares to life like black flames from the gold of my neck, a resonant threat in true echoing up from the gutteral caverns of my lungs as the yearling slithers up alongside my mother. A possessive response fires in my brain when he stands so closely intimate to Mother. Looking down on him now, I can see one day he will be just as tall as I when he reaches full maturity. His skull-like mask and golden emblems are insignia enough to know that he is my younger sibling. But in our family line, sibling rivalry consists stronger of Kill or Be Killed. Exude Strength or die for your weakness. Ivory scythes are pulled from their sheaths and I dart forward, shoving my muzzle towards him and purposely invading his personal space to test his limits, nipping at his shoulder and gauging his reaction. Should he shy away, cower or bolt he would instantly trigger my attack reflex and would likely suffer more than a nasty bite.

"Brother..." Sanguine thirst laces with the syllables, an undercurrent of fatal intent as the demonic urge to taste his blood nearly consumes my Will. But I resist, for not. And by sheer force of that same Willpower do I relinquish such dark desire and return my attentions to that of Stella, eyes honing in upon her enlarged stomach and I tilt my head curiously as I regard her. "More?"