the world is huge.
that’s the first thing kaldros thinks as he takes a daring step from the mouth of the den, one too-big paw reaching out to test the snow-packed earth. the light makes his eyes squint—soft, babyblue still, rimmed in lashes like frost.
the air is sharp and new. it smells of pine and cold things, and underneath, something warm and wild. he thinks it might be his father, faintly—his mother more strongly, lingering like a blanket.
but now… now he is out here. not just peeking, not just listening.
a stick—no, a sword—catches his eye. crooked, perfect. kaldros totters toward it, tail sticking straight out behind him like a balancing rope. he fumbles with it, jaws still clumsy with milk teeth, but manages to wrap them around the prize. it drags behind him like a banner.
the feeling swells in his chest. a crackle, a rumble, a thing that must come out.
he tilts his small head to the sky, paws splayed, and lets it go.
his very first howl, too high-pitched and broken to be anything fearsome. it echoes, feeble, but real—and kaldros beams. the stick falls. he howls again, louder.
that’s the first thing kaldros thinks as he takes a daring step from the mouth of the den, one too-big paw reaching out to test the snow-packed earth. the light makes his eyes squint—soft, babyblue still, rimmed in lashes like frost.
the air is sharp and new. it smells of pine and cold things, and underneath, something warm and wild. he thinks it might be his father, faintly—his mother more strongly, lingering like a blanket.
but now… now he is out here. not just peeking, not just listening.
a stick—no, a sword—catches his eye. crooked, perfect. kaldros totters toward it, tail sticking straight out behind him like a balancing rope. he fumbles with it, jaws still clumsy with milk teeth, but manages to wrap them around the prize. it drags behind him like a banner.
the feeling swells in his chest. a crackle, a rumble, a thing that must come out.
he tilts his small head to the sky, paws splayed, and lets it go.
his very first howl, too high-pitched and broken to be anything fearsome. it echoes, feeble, but real—and kaldros beams. the stick falls. he howls again, louder.
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