Forward dated to around April 6th.
Standing is difficult; he has the stability of a newborn deer and finds himself hacking up a lung every time he goes more than a few feet. Rest is important, yet Helios quickly finds himself frustrated. If he must deal with the outside world peering into the den, then he might as well see what it is that his parents seem so fond of introducing. His eyes burn as he stumbles away from the den's comfortable grasp. The wind hits him first, sending a shiver over the dark pup's spine. There are so many unfamiliar scents that come with it. Helios sits; a yawn escapes his tiny jaws with a squeak midway through. First step of his adventure conquered.
from the shadow, she watches, her deep blue eyes steady and trained upon the slow drag of her brother's steps toward the upper ground. she chooses silence over a warning chuff; his actions are foolish and bound for reprimand, but she, too, finds herself drawn by whatever lies in the brightness of the world above.
the dove watches, until Helios is swallowed by the light and is gone. she waits, a moment longer, to see if he will return - and, when he doesn't, she rises and draws forward to follow with what little quickness her feeble legs can afford her.
the pale girl squints and ducks her head as the shadows fall and light takes hold. and suddenly, there is so much more. Helios, for one, and a sprawling world about them. she cannot keep her eyes from growing wide; though she shivers beneath the gust of a frigid wind, there is something wild out here. something fantastic, and she sinks to the ground with a laboured breath from the illness which clings to her. she will collect her rest, and then venture further, and she turns to Helios, the want clear on her face.
and she wonders - does he feel the wonder, too?
x
The raven is not alone. He never is, and in this instance, it is his sister that tumbles after him. Blue eyes blink, shifting towards the dove with encouragement. Together they shall conquer; a conflicting force of sun and polar. Tiny as they are, neither get far. Polaris rests to gather her strength once she reaches Helios' side. The brother takes to stretching his forearms down, laying next to her and pressing his muzzle gently overtop her small shoulders. His legs kick until he finds a position comfortable enough. Part of him grows tired already, and sleep wants to whisk him away to his dreams. Yet, Helios remains determined for now. He wants to see this world his parents live in outside of the darkness they know.
Her brother's frail weight presses against her, and she rests in the warmth of his body. He is not as warm as the light which sometimes floods from the upper world down to the underground, but Helios is far more familiar and far more comfortable than the light.
She closes her eyes for the brevity of a second, before she is transfixed upon the world once more - so different, this upper world is from the only home she has ever known. The dove shifts and tries to turn a touch of her nose to grace her brother's cheek - a quiet beckon to hurry on. If they rest here too long, mother and father will find them here and surely pull them back to safety - so Polaris wiggles out from beneath her brother's weight and beams him a glance, a mischievous light across her face, and fully expects him to follow.
The gentle press of a cold nose rouses Helios from the fog clouding his mind; tempted as he is to insist that they stay put, the raven follows the beckon of his sister. She presses onward, ever curious as any child ought to be. The raven is just so; seeking out the unknown in a reckless manner. Yet he finds safety in knowing this territory is theirs, even if that knowledge comes from instinct alone. He gets to his shakey feet, a cough escaping his muzzle from the effort. Ears and eyes peer ahead, roaming over what they could, before his vision locks on a particularly interesting looking object. Glancing at Polaris, he attempts to run ahead of her. All to investigate a stick.