Neverwinter Forest hymn for the weekend

“I’m Cypress Benvolio Frostfur,” he heard the little voice announce, and a snort of amusement pressed past his nostrils as his pace slowed. The caller had beckoned to the wolves of the woods, and it would seem his son had beat him to the punch – of course, at almost three months of age, they were everywhere now throughout the forest – and with six puppies on the loose, it was hard to ensure their borders were fully protected.
 
Cypress, however, continued to exude his confidence to their visitor, and as the youth questioned the morals of their visitor, Scimitar ideally would have lingered in the shadows to determine the answer for his own amusement, but the thought did not sit well that his boy was alone at the borders – and so he swept forward, his own form large and held to full height. He spoke nothing as he pulled up behind the Frostfur boy – his gaze instead fell upon the pale girl, waiting her answer as he allowed the aspiring guardian to take the lead on this matter.