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The Mother, by virtue of plume and breast, was the center of his world. She was as constant as the ebb and fade of the light from the sky, as the sand that consumed the world, and the sound of the blue moving against the land. Even when the younglet was put in the moving darkness, her voice came through. The only time she vanished was when they stopped, and the Wiggly Tail made noises at her. Then, both of them would leave, and he would not see them. Somehow, she and the Wiggly Tail always returned, and brought with them food. He didn't understand why she didn't offer him the food he was supposed to eat. His instincts told him that the liquid from her breast was the best food, but she did not allow him to take it. If he nipped at the fur of her chest, she would react quickly, and the Mother's will was absolute. If he bit her, or the Wiggly Tail, or the Blue, she would gaze down at him with her huge yellow eyes and open her mouth, threatening him until he released his jaws. Her gesture was always accompanied by a sharp noise, one of the strange noises of the adult yinglets. The sharp noise, he had learned, was one that signaled the Mother's displeasure. In the times when he tested her patience and refused to stop biting, the sharp noises grew more varied, and she'd move closer as if to engulf him in her jaws. His body knew that to be engulfed was to End, and he would let go with a jolt of fright. Other signs of the End abounded, and in his young mind, he tried to resist the fear they brought. To be hungry was to End, to wander too far on his stumbling legs was to End, and most fearful of all to him was a shadow passing over him. A shadow moving over the sand or rock was the only thing that he would give into the fear for, and cling hard to the Mother.

There was the least fear in the midst of the adults, and even the siblings he disdained provided comfort. His favored companion was always the Mother. While the Wiggly Tail and the Blue provided food as she did, they lacked the feminine features that marked her so prominently in the younglet's mind, and they were deferential in all ways to her. The younglet observed the adults when he was able, and realized that the Mother got the best of everything. The best foods disappeared into her mouth, foods she sometimes shared with the young ones. When she deigned to groom the males, they were quick to return the favor, and spend more time grooming her. Her noises and movements brought smiles to the males, and a certain sound that the younglet was growing to know as a happy noise. When her movements were hesitant with sadness, the males would comfort her. When she was confident, they were confident. When she was afraid, they were afraid. The younglet saw these things, and knew in his fuzzy infant way that he should emulate her.

He had little competition from his siblings, though the Fluffy was growing bolder. The two would often literally butt heads. The younglet had no idea how to fight yet, and thus pushing his opponent away from the desired object was the name of the game. The Weak One was no obstacle, and would move away before confrontation was needed. The younglet noted that the Weak One was most often coddled by the adults, especially the Blue. He found this odd, for the Blue was the adult who sometimes seemed to subtly challenge the Mother. The Wiggly Tail most often bestowed his attention upon the Fluffy. It was confusing, but all that mattered to the younglet was that the Mother favored him. Therefor, it was doubly distressing when the Mother did things he didn't like. Instead of holding him in her hands like she did when the group was at rest, he was bundled into a tight, constricting pouch and hung from her chest. On the occasions when she vanished with the Wiggly Tail, her return was always long after his cries to be coddled had ceased. Now was such an occasion, and he lay belly-down on a sun-warmed rock, sulking. The white and brown adults had gone off, leaving only the Blue to watch over the younglets. The Fluffy had slid into a pool of shallow water and was splashing about, while the Weak One curled against the Blue and stared at the immense expanse of stone rising forever into the sky.

The wall of rock meeting the ocean was something new to the younglet. It had caused a great fuss amongst the adults when they reached it. They had made many noises at one another for a long time, culminating in the expedition that left him alone with the Blue and his siblings. Irritated at being left behind, he watched his brother patting at small holes in the bottom of the pool. The younglet's interest was piqued when a thin white thing popped out of one of the holes, only to vanish when a small paw came down towards it. Quick movement was always important to the younglet, and he crawled on clumsy legs towards the pool. More of the things popped up, easily avoiding each time the Fluffy tried to touch them. Puffing his little chest, the younglet tumbled into the pool and peeped at his brother. The Fluffy, standing as firmly as a days-old yinglet could, raised a hand to battle the younglet for the new toy. Ignoring the soft plap of the outstretched limb hitting his side, he charged into the Fluffy. The Fluffy backed off quickly this time, although not without a short hiss. He sat in a section of the pool with fewer holes, leaving the younglet to view the ample field of strange things before him. They popped up quickly, but seemed to vanish into the holes even more quickly. An older yinglet might have observed them to see which holes they were coming out of, but the younglet merely started slapping the sandy substrate every time he saw a creature poke up. Instincts told him that lunging forward with his arms would produce results, but his young body wasn't quite able to do the spear-like maneuver fast enough. Drawn by the splashing, the Weak One stumbled up the rocks with the help of the Blue. The Weak One didn't join the game, merely watching his brothers in their efforts to catch the tiny sand eels.

The younglet was growing increasingly frustrated. His body simply wasn't doing what it was supposed to, and he began to claw at the tunnels in retribution for his own shortcomings. This set off a chain of events. The sand eels were driven more to the burrows on the other side of the pool. One of them had the misfortune to pop up into a hole covered by the Fluffy's mouth. Surprised but unwilling to let go of a tasty treat, the Fluffy bit down and began to pull the eel from the burrow. The younglet continued his little rampage, his increasingly loud shrieks of rage frightening the Weak One, who tumbled backwards off the rocks. The Blue moved to catch him, and thus was unable to catch the Fluffy when the eel finally slid free of the burrow and caused the orange younglet to fly backwards. Luckily landing on sand instead of rock, the Fluffy began to wail. The Blue, holding the Weak One in one hand, ran over to pick up the Fluffy. The younglet was focused only on trying to obtain an eel, and did not notice when one popped up near his tail. The pinch of it biting his tail was felt less than being gently pet on the head, but it startled him enough to result in an ear-splitting cry. In very quick order, the Blue was in the pool, holding the siblings in front of him like swords, one foot stomping in an effort to get the eel to detach. This was followed by a white blur that overshot the pool, struck a rock, and rolled out of sight. The Wiggly Tail appeared out of nowhere, scrabbling at the sand and causing a veritable explosion of sand eels. The white blur reappeared and resolved into the form of the Mother, who began to take handfuls of eels and throw them around.

Every yinglet was making some sort of noise as loudly as possible, and it wasn't until the remaining eels managed to find hiding places that they calmed down. The Mother was the last to calm, screeching at a pile of eels until the Blue put a hand on her back. The younglet watched her blink, look around, and begin the happy-noise. The other adults picked it up. Sensing that everything was fine, the younglet tottered over to the pile of eels at his mother's feet, and began to eat.

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A chapter from Pot Pie's perspective! He angy smol man.