Two Rivers Isle Arthendal, our new home

It was his little brother who came for him first, latching onto his ear and tugging him faster up the hill. 
It worked, granted, but it did smart a bit. Pyro's  sharp baby teeth were digging in and drawing blood but didn't actually rip or tear. So long as Vass slunk unwillingly behind him, all was well. The height of it all was still uncomfortable, but with Pyro's grip on him maybe he wouldn't fall. It wasn't a mountain, after all, not as many places to fall and die. 
                           "D-daddy! Moooooom!"
Instinctivley, he called out to his parents, pushing closer to his brother for comfort and whimpering slightly. The little chestnut boy trembled, his nostrils flared, and he didn't in the slightest understand what was going on. His eyes, though, rather than being on their caregivers or even the heights, were on Pyro, as if asking him to keep his older brother safe. Was the darker boy not afraid of the cliffs? Did he not worry of falling and feeling the pain of wounds?