Bearclaw Valley I thought we might play catch, or... I dunno
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Paw forward, recited Lucas, slapping one chubby forepaw down on the wet grass, then sliiiiide back, and he pulled it back along the slick ground until it was squarely under his wobbling chest again. Good. Next one. The opposite paw landed and then slid back. Lucas had these moves more or less down pat, but moving the rest of his body at the same time was proving difficult. He placed his right forepaw ahead once more, followed by the left hind paw, but when he attempted to slide them both back at once while moving the other two up, he wobbled precariously and toppled onto his side.

This didn't squash his good mood, of course. It only contributed. With a chuckle, he began to flail his limbs and turn himself in a laborious circle on his shoulder. Break dance break! Do the windmill, baby.

OOC: Would love a @Laurel if you have time!
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you're the unbreakable heart
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Of all her pups, Lucas was the most active one. He was always dancing through life, it seemed. But it wasn't just activity that set him apart; there was an overwhelming positivity about her chubbiest lil' cub that made Laurel somehow see the better sides of life, too. Whenever she was with her pups it was hard to think of all the shitty things in life. It was hard to think of anything but them and what they brought her.

As Laurel returned from a quick hunt with a scrawny half-eaten squirrel between her teeth -- the rest was for Indra -- she saw Lucas rolling about in the grass. The mom marched over to the den, speeding up her pace slightly and deposited the fresh food by the side of the den's entrance. "Are you busy practising your dance moves, Lucas?" she said with a grin and while licking her lips she moved in closer, intending to give him a good ole' belly-nuzzle once she reached him.
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He giggled to himself as he turned the world's slowest circle, but soon enough, it wasn't just him that he was laughing to. Laurel had come by to join the fun with a question that went unanswered, just for now, and he cackled as much with joy at the sight of his mother as he did at how silly the world spinning around him looked. It was truly amazing that just turning a circle like that could make the entire world visible.

"Yeah!" the pudgy Redleaf chirruped as he finally completed his circle and hopped to his feet. He was a package of boundless energy. He needed it to haul his puphood weight around, after all, but he had plenty to spare. Perhaps that was why he was always dancing—he needed to let it out, one way or another, and moving his body to the rhythm of his heart and soul was his favourite way. It helped that others lit up when he danced, too. He was young but he was already a big fan of cheering others up.

"You wannsa try, mama?" he asked, lifting himself onto his hind paws and seeking to place his forefeet on Laurel's sturdy chest while he blinked owlishly up with tail wagging madly.
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It warmed Laurel's heart that she should raise such a cheerful child who seemed uncaptivated by the woes and throes of the world. He was truly her little sunshine, and surely his siblings', too. He made Laurel think that life might be worth it after all, and that maybe she could be happy too. After the belly nuzzle and Lucas stopped spinning he invited her to try it too. Laurel smiled lovingly at the child that reminded her most of herself -- not in demeanour, but in appearance -- as he gently pressed on her chest and looked up at her with so much trust and cheer in his eyes.

"I would love to try it, honey," she said with a voice so soft that she only used when speaking to her children. Laurel lay down on her back on the ground and then asked: "Okay, what do I do now?"
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For Lucas, it was sometimes harder to explain how to do a dance move than to just show it. Windmilling was an easy one to show and to explain, luckily, so when Laurel took to her back, Lucas flopped back down to do the same. So far he hadn't properly danced with any adult wolves—Indra in his infancy didn't really count because he couldn't remember it—and he was excited to do it for the first time with his mama, of all wolves.

"Kay," he said, "firs' you gotsa put your shou'er down," and he demonstrated by twisting his body so his shoulder was lightly touching the ground. "Then you gotsa kin'a," and since he lacked the words for it, he just began bopping his head, "an' then you spin!" Spinning was a lot harder than it looked. It took the efforts of most of the muscles in his back and hindquarters to gain enough momentum to move him in a circle, and once or twice he had to try to use his hindpaws to kick at the ground to spin him, but he managed one slow turn like he had when Laurel first found him. "Isn' perf'ct yet," he admitted through a panting tongue.
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Laurel glanced over to Lucas as he explained what she must do. She followed the steps methodically: As he explained, Laurel first put down her shoulder to the ground... Then bopped her head while trying to keep the shoulder in place... And then she 'spinned', though it was a lot less fast than Lucas (so she moved only a very tiny amount as she tried) had been going as she tried to get the hang of it. Laurel didn't really feel like dancing anyway, after all: She just wanted to give Lucas a positive experience as teacher.

"Weee," she said in faux-excitement as she repeated the moves that he had just taught her again. "Spinning is pretty hard," Laurel concluded then.
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Well, Laurel tried, at least. In Lucas' eyes, her efforts were flawless. She was center stage, her moves flowed and captivated, and her wide-eyed song watched her slow rotation with a huge grin even though the reality was far less stellar than what he saw. Things in the eyes of a child were often magnified to a great degree, and that was true of everything Lucas' mama did, too.

"Yeah!" Lucas chirruped in response, righting himself and slapping his hocks with his rapidly wagging tail. Spinning was hard, wasn't it? Not so much for him, he was young and flexible and impervious to the pain of bruising in his youth. Laurel was, well, old. To him, at least. But she'd done an amazing job, making her small dancer of a son proud, and that was what counted. "Watcha wan' do, mama?" he wondered next, smiling eyes fixed on her pink nose.
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The fact that Lucas seemed a ball of neverending praise only further amplified Laurel's love for her dear son. He was such a bright and positive boy. When he asked what she wanted to do, Laurel's heart melted further. To have such a considerate son... It almost gave her some hope again that there were good wolves out there after all. And if there hadn't been, then well, she would make sure there was at least one in the form of her handsome boy Lucas.

"How about we go collect treasure?" Laurel suggested. "There's lots of beautiful treasures out there. Pretty rocks, bright coloured features..." She trailed off, leaving space for him to fill in any treasures of his own as he wished, while waiting to hear if he would be interested to find any treasures of his own.
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It was for the best young Lucas would likely never meet any of his grandparents; his gentle nature would clash with his maternal side, in particular. His grandfather was a flake and a scoundrel and his grandmother had all the stability of a weeble wobble, and neither of them would leave a good impression on Lucas, who had a huge heart. Add to that the fact his paternal grandfather led a band of questionable folks and let's just say he wasn't missing much by not having his grandparents around.

"Yeah!" exclaimed the chubby cherub, hopping top his paws and prancing impatiently in place. "Rocks, fedders, leaves, bugs, rabbit poopses..." There were so many potential treasures and he was certain the valley had to have some hidden. He wasn't exactly materialistic, but he thought it might be nice to bring a trinket or two home for Piper and Wyatt. Maybe some for Nunataq and Marten, too, if he could carry that many. He was already frolicking off in the direction of the territory's center when he called out, "and branches! Wha's your favouritest treasure?"
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Laurel smiled at Lucas' enthusiasm as he started to throw down a list of treasures that he was eager to collect. He trailed off after 'rabbit poopses', which wasn't exactly a treasure Laurel wanted -- it could be told by the way she wrinkled her nose as he mentioned it that she thought 'ew' rather than 'yay, treasure'. Then as he darted off quickly added branches as an afterthought, sounding much like he couldn't believe he'd forgotten to mention branches so far. Laurel patiently followed her son, though at a more leisurely pace as he bounced ahead.

"My favourite treasure..." She thought of her youth, when she would go collect treasure with Indra. Laurel always walked in front of the group of two, leading the way, dictating what the best treasures were. "... Are shiny rocks. Me and your aunt used to look for shiny rocks in the creek a lot. The water made them extra shiny." Sometimes a rock would seem like a shiny rock but it turned out to be just a regular one that looked shiny. It had kept them busy for hours as children.
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His mind whirred over all the things he considered treasures: the blades of grass, the brilliant and clear sky with its puffy dollops of grey-white, the birds that trilled in the trees, the rocks bordering a babbling brook. He saw treasures in all of these things, not to collect but to cherish all the same. The world's wonder overflowed in Lucas, with eyes that saw only magic and promise in everything. It was impossible to name everything that he thought of as a treasure; it would take all the time he was granted in his life.

Laurel knew what her favourite treasure was, and shared it with her bouncing son, who paused in his jigging walk to beam back at her. "Shiny rocks are good treasureses," he agreed. They were rare on the earth, but Laurel then revealed where they came from, and Lucas giggled. "Can I see a shiny rock from cree'? Pleaaaaase?"
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