Wakey Wakey! (OPEN)

The blinding light of the suns rays had yet to peek through the glass windows of the manor, though the area did not harbor the chill of early morning. Surrounded by friends and family, Jama'afu found a comfortable warmth sleeping piled among their bodies. Her nights as of late had been dreamless. Though some may have found this to be disturbing - had it been them who lacked in the sleeping stories of the mind - Jama found additional comfort in it. Her dreams had been, for as long as she could remember, nothing but horrid nightmares of memories past. Crying puppies, needles, and aching pain. The only solace from the nightly terrors had come in the form of nightmares of the earth splitting beneath her. Sometimes her friends and family would be swallowed up by the gaping hole where once there were fields and forests, sometimes she would find herself entirely alone with no one to rescue her. But these did not occur the previous night as her mind remained blank.

Staring through half-open eyes, her dark gaze darted back and forth only giving the illusion of consciousness. In reality, however, Jama was still in a deep sleep. The announcement of one of her fellow clan mates did little to stir her from her solid slumber. A large, red coated ear flicked at the sound, yet her jowls continued to hover in the rhythmic snore of a deep sleep.

Feeling a nudge at her upturned belly, she let out a grumble before turning her face away from the assaulting antagonist. The shifting of bodies beside her brought her back into the world of the living. Blinking away the sleep gunk from her groggy eyes she rolled over to place her feet beneath her. With a snort and a slow blink the world began to open up for her. It was a new day. With a small smile she nodded her head towards the canna who had been the source of the early morning commotion.

"Good morning, Li'Eliri'kuruk," she greeted, still finding it odd to refer to the young male as their chief. Something about him just left her feeling as if he lacked in the leadership skills department - yet he had never steered them wrong since taking charge after the escape from the shelter. Perhaps she was just getting too old to really see the younger generation as fit enough for leadership. Giving her full body a good stretch and a shake, she padded over to another of her sleeping clanmates, nudging them with her nose. A smile was worn across her tired features as she greeted the new day with a playful voice.

"You heard the chief, it's time to get up u'canna!"

At the sound of familiar voices conversing, the liver colored face burst up from the floor. His brown gaze met those of his fully awake or still-stirring clan mates. With a wide-mouthed yawn ending in a curling of his salmon tongue, he rose to his feet. His mind was focused solely on his one task, a daily repetitious quirk that others had come to expect from him. With his four paws solid beneath him he began to address his companions one by one, starting with their chief.

"Mornin' Li'Eliri'kuruk," he started. A paw raised as he leaned his body forward towards the direction of the clan's leader as if pointing directly to him. His brown eyes focused on the target of his greeting. Only to the chief would he break this stance - albeit only slightly - with a brief nod of his head shown in respect. Mukha'mufar was entirely oblivious to any of his fellow canna's feelings towards their chief. For he only required someone to follow and Eliri had granted him that ability.

Moving on, he greeted each of his fellow Grair'far members in turn. "Mornin' Jama," stated with a point towards the redbone. "Mornin' Ru'e," pointing towards the dark furred borzoi. And on and on to his sleeping companions.

Once his morning ritual was complete he waltzed up to their chief with a happy bounce in his step and a wag of his lanky tail. Ru'e had inquired on Eliri's daily orders, but Mukha'mufar felt the need to follow up with her question. "What's the plan?" he asked as a hound underneath his feet let out a groan from being accidentally stomped on by the blatant pointer.

Always the motherly sort, Jama found herself nudging the canna who had been stepped on by the boisterous pointer, urging them to get up and start the day with the rest of them. Unlike the pointer, she did not find it necessary to reiterate questions that need be answered only once. Instead she opted to wait for their chief's orders - outside of "don't step on your clan mates." She nodded as Li'Eliri requested that all Grair'far canna be awake by the time he was ready for the first hunt of the day. A little smile pulled at her lips. The order was nearly impossible to complete as it seemed the chief - as well as most other canna in the clan - were always ready for any number of hunts throughout the day. Heck, the hounds could track down and tear apart a zelfa and immediately be ready for the next hunt while the lout still twitched and drew ragged breaths.

At his next statement she couldn't manage to stifle the chuckle that flew from her lips in small, short bubbles of air as she watched the chief bolt off down the stairs with a few of their numbers taking only a moment to catch their bearings before taking off at his heels. If there was anything that Li'Eliri didn't lack it was spirit and charisma. Perhaps having a Li'canna was not so bad as he understood their needs better than any Li'grimm would.

Living under canna rule, Jama never experienced being kenneled or shooed away from a kill like she had living with humans. While there was far more chaos than she was used to, it was not a complete chaos. There was order. Eliri had a great sense to keep all canna living within the Grair'far happy, and that was enough for her. Part of her wondered if she would have been happier with this life in her younger years than she had been at the hands of man. There was certainly more freedom in this current life, that was for sure.

With a wide grin she started towards the wooden steps. She was too old for a race down some steps and bumping into her fellow canna on the way down, though she found joy in the gang's fun in the early morning shenanigans. Nope, she would opt to wait for the bulk of them to take off and then follow at her own leisure. This, of course, was different when it came to being outside in the hunting groups where she - like nearly all other Grair'far canna - would bumble and fight to make it to the front of the pack.

Glancing around she noted the few lazy canna that still lay about on the floor, snoring and grunting. "Alright u'canna, best to get a move on 'less Li'Eliri'kuruk set the hunt on you!" she stated with a chuckle as she made her way down the stairs.

High pitched wheezing like the air being let slowly out of a balloon filled the pointer's ears as he focused his attention on his chief. Squeeze the air out of...? He tilted his head before dropping his dark muzzle to look downward and noting the canna who remained beneath his front paws. With a sheepish grin he bounced back. Ears pinned back and wearing an apologetic smile he lifted a front paw and pointed to his fellow Grair'far member. With his nose in their face he let out a sincere yet boisterous, "Sorry friend!"

He had missed the next part of Li'Eliri's order but suddenly the canna had darted past him towards the stairs. Looking both this way and that at the flood of canna who followed in his wake, Mukha'mufar scrambled to join into the fray. Almost beginning his advancement with a few strides in place - not finding his grip on the mansion's floor with his claws - once his paw pads met the ground he was off like a rocket, leaping and bounding past, around, and over his fellow clan mates. A wide smile was worn across his face as he battled with his friends to make it to the front of the pack. At one point he swore he must have been standing on the backs of two other canna for a moment before leaping back into the small wave of dogs. His tail wagged as he caught up to the recognizable, flowing dark fur of the borzoi, Rue'e. She always seemed able to make it close up to the front with her long legs and elegant gait.

Pink tongue lolling from his liver colored muzzle, Mukha'mufar paid no attention to the fact that if they should come to an abrupt stop he would surely topple over the leaders of the assault towards the ground floor while simultaneously being trampled, himself.