Dragoncrest Cliffs all is well

@Thuringwethil

Each passing day drew forth new developments from the pale-furred boy. He found joy in wrestling with his siblings and exploring the area around his family’s den. His favorite activities typically involved insects, twigs, and pebbles. He was a rambunctious child, albeit distinctly curious and observant.
 
Having picked up on the notion that the grownups would teach him new things, he wasn’t keen on wandering very far from them – there was no telling when he would need them to show him something.
 
It was late afternoon as the trees’ shadows grew lengthy against the ground, and Artaax found himself entranced and perplexed by his inability to touch or feel the strange dark objects. He pawed at the dirt, whining his displeasure when his motion produced no tangible effect on the shadow.
 
Bewildered, he lifted his head until he spotted his ever-watchful nomi lounging nearby. His eager, squeaky bark pierced the calm spring air as he bounded towards her, only to stumble backwards in the direction of the shadows in hopes of beckoning her near.
 
Pivoting around, he resumed his clumsy digging against the soft earth to try to get to the bottom of the strange anomalies splayed against the ground.

Thuringwethil is watching the boy in the opening outside their den with a careful eye, Robin and @Blixen passed out next to one another. The tension in the den has come and gone with good days and bad but she’s able to enjoy the time with her children still and the boy’s eagerness to do keeps a smile lingering the corners of her lips. However, he turns and focuses on her, barking for her attention and she slowly picks herself up to scoot forward and look to see what he has found. Nothing in particular is on the ground and she noses up against him encouragingly. “Chit yu gaf?” she murmurs, ears cupped forward in attention.

His tail waved as Thuringwethil neared him, milky blue eyes scouring her dark façade adoringly. Her question prompted his ears to twitch forward curiously. As he continued to grow and master the art of articulating himself, he’d come to know his mother’s native language just as fluently as he’d know her second.
 
She didn’t seem to understand or see what Artaax wanted to show her, though. Creamy brows furrowing, the boy turned and stomped his small feet against the dark silhouette that seemed to mimic his every move. “Wuh?” he asked, a concerned whine punctuating his short question.

There’s a fleeting moment of wonder as Artaax turns his attention to her. It’s brief, but she catches it, and she can’t help the infectious smile that appears on her face. Instantly, her tail thumps the ground and her heart flutters in a way she’s felt but a few times. She can look at Artaax and see herself looking back in a way she has not expected.

He is quick to change his intention and he stomps one of his paws against the ground. However, he does so in a way that he tries to put his foot on something he can’t quite accomplish. It takes a few more seconds but the information clicks into place. She picks her own paw up then, mimicking her shadow in a similar fashion before she places it back on the ground.

“Yu trikova,” she tells him. Then, Thuringwethil stands and maneuvers over the boy and out into the open in front of their den where the light shines wide. She turns in a way that the sun comes down on her, casting a shadow in the shape of her on the forest floor.

As his mother moved to step past him, Artaax plopped clumsily onto his rump and watched wide-eyed as the sunlight appeared to engulf her entire form. He squinted in hopes of catching a glimpse of her face but saw nothing but darkness.
 
He didn’t quite put two and two together until a flicker of movement upon the earth. The strange apparition followed nomi, too! He gasped, stumbling onto his paws just in time to hear the short explanation she offered. “Trrr…kova?” he attempted to sound out, cocking his head towards her shadow.
 
His puppy blue gaze narrowed, a playful growl spilling forth from his lips as he sprang towards the trikova. The result of his graceless action sent him tumbling unceremoniously into Thuringwethil’s front paws.

Artaax tests the word out for himself, slowly making the sounds. It is not exact but his puppy tongue is foreign to words and as a muscle, needs repetition. Her ears sweep forward as he looks down at the shadow on the ground. “Sha. Trikova,” she says with a smile, turning to give him room so their followers can mingle below.

After a moment, he growls and bounces forward, tumbling into her legs as she drops her nose quickly to inspect the fallen form. A rumble starts in her chest as she nudges him around and pressing her cold nose wherever she can reach.