Neverwinter Forest Hear Hear!

He can hear! @Ondine @Kjalarr

Arrille thoroughly enjoyed the recent addition of sight given to him. He opened his eyes when dawn came, the light peering into the den. That's when he heard a faint whistling in the air. The boy had no idea what this sound could be. He looked around, trying to find what it was yet couldn't find any source for it. Wherever he looked, it was the same sound. 

He opened his mouth and made a mew. And then he heard another noise. His mouth shut, and the sound stopped. There was a pause, and he did it again, and again the sound was heard. It confused him, but slowly he was figuring it out.

The weeks inside the den had been peaceful - but outside, storm raged and intense cold ravished their land without mercy. Prey was frozen in place, plants having not been granted to shed their leafs when already frost took them over. Terrible - even if the wolf was designed to hunt in winter and its paws were crafted so that they would not sink away in the snow. Not even Ondine's northern genes and coat could stop the cold - and she was never apart from her little one for long. Now that Daddy was the sole leader of Neverwinter Forest, she had to take care of little Arrille. And she did - quite successfully so, if one were to ask the new mother.

On that cold winter day, she opened her eyes and heard the cutest little sound she had heard in a while. She had heard other women talk about how children were noisy, but she had had no problems with it. Perhaps that was because only one healthy boy had survived... Whatever it was, the point was that she was not bothered by Arrille's noises.

Her bi-colored eyes stared at her little one - he was obviously reacting to something. Goodmorning, little Arrille... She whispered, letting her warm breath stroke his handsome face.

Arrille felt movement around him as his mother moved about to look at him. She spoke, and his head turned to her, his own sounds stopping. he had heard her, and even though he did not understand the words spoken, it was a new sound. A new voice to hear. His little head pivoted to the side a bit to a small angle, his eyes curious to hear her words. He made another mew sound in response, crawling to her to try and reach her face with his paws.

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The soft mewls of his son brought to the Viking’s visage a smile. Though the grief of having to kill his daughters hung with him despite that he knew Ragnar and Odin had accepted them to Valhalla he found his happiness in the developments of his son. His living child; all the while hoping that the pain of sacrificing his daughters would cease to hurt. He did not strive to forget them but he sought to end the pain, the regret. The chill of his heart helped. Clinging to his Gods and their “savage” ways helped. Ragnar told him in his nightmares that he was no viking, and each time Kjalarr protested the guttural words roared in his head and echoed now during his waking hours: then be a viking; you have grown too soft. Too soft. Yet even a Viking was allowed to love his family, to love his children. The borders were silent as he expected them to be and his thick, platinum silver fur was covered in a layer of snow that clung to it as he shrugs into the mouth of the den, confident that no one would be trespassing any time soon and wanting to spend some time with his family.

“My wife,” Kjalarr murmurs in a low rumble of a greeting as he makes to offer Ondine an affectionate nudge to her cheek before he looks down to Arrille. He was still small, but definitely growing. “My son.” The scarred northman breaths the words like a trembling prayer, looking to touch his nose to the boy’s back if he did not first squirm out of the way in his efforts to reach Ondine’s face as it appeared he was trying to do.

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She bit her lip to try and keep in a "squee" of happiness as her little boy seemed to know she was there. She hoped so that his singer's voice made up for her black eye that could potentially scare a child, but then remembered this was their child. Surely her own son would not look upon her in horror... She was distracted with the coming of her husband, smiling up at him - truly happy that he was here to witness their child gain yet another ability that would help him in life. She returned the nudge from Kjalarr with her own cat-like stroke, and then returned to watching their son.

He came for her, and the mother was surprised with this sudden change of interest of the boy. She giggled softly, lowering her muzzle so he could reach it with enough effort. Good morning, Kjalarr... She greeted her husband in the same, sweet whisper she had used on Arrille. Arrille can hear... She breathed out, not knowing if he had noticed.

Arrille turned his little head before touching his mother's nose, and saw his father, as well as heard him for the first time. The voice was so much different, and still the words held no meaning as of yet to the young pup. But at least he could hear the words. His mind set back to giggling form of his mother, and he tried to reach out again for her nose. When he did, he felt the cold wetness of it. It was rather surprising to him, and he fell right over onto his back before giving out a little mew.

Arrille went for her nose and she closed her eyes as he went out to touch her. Two cold noses touched together, a magnetic pull between mother and son, before the little one lost his balance and fell. Oh, whoops!... She laughed, but not in any mean spirit, and went out to blow some air on his exposed belly fluff. She was surprised the young one was not crying, proving again to be a strong individual and she gave him a quick nuzzle to try and get him onto the right side again.

Clumsy little boy... She whispered sweetly. 

Arrille struggled for a bit to roll back over onto his little belly. It took effort, as he was so young. But his mother helped him up with the use of her nose, nuzzling him over. It worked, as he was once again on his belly and comfortable. He looked up at her nose, and thought that he wouldn't try that again. Being on his back was too uncomfortable for him. He heard her words, and his head tilted at her whisper.

Luckily her son did not struggle against her wishes to help him get back upon his tiny feet, proud that he had achieved his goal - even with her help. She laughed softly, chuckling at how strange the tingly feeling inside her stomach was when looking upon her young son. She loved him so dearly and pulled him between her forepaws - against his will or not. It was time for a bath, she had noticed, so she started gently grooming his white, fluffy coat.

The young pup felt himself start to be pulled from his position, and when he felt some wet thing, and saw a glimpse of something sloppy and pink, it made him squirm. The feeling of his fur going flat and wet was not very comfortable for him. He didn't give up squirming until the deed was done, and his grooming complete.

While it was obvious her son did not like being groomed, she did not stop. She kept her paws gently squeezed around his small body to make sure he could not (easily) get away. She made sure not to squish or hurt him and groomed until his white pelt was, well, white again. There you go, little snowball... She whispered sweetly - nuzzling his coat dry a bit.

Arrille continued to squirm as he was groomed by his Mother. Soon, she was finished. His ear twitched when she whispered to him, then nuzzled his fur. He felt comfortable in her grip, especially since he didn't feel wet from her tongue anymore. And being comfortable made him rather tired. He opened his mouth in a little yawn.

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She watched as their little fuzzball yawned indicating that he was rather tired from the day. She smiled sweetly at him, picking him up with a soft grasp and placing him near her belly - coating him with her downy fur that he could use as a sort of blanket. She placed her head on her paws and watched him from a distance as she hummed a soft lullaby.

Slowly, Arrille's eyes closed tight as he fell asleep under his mother's gaze. The rhythmic humming helped sooth him into the deep sleep he soon went into. In her presence he felt safe and warm. His slumber was blissful, and he had happy dreams of the new things he had heard.