Noctisardor Bypass 'lo, there do i see my mother

as usual, no obligation! <3

the morning is blanketed by a layer of fog, thick and dense and cloying as it wraps around the heart of the bypass. it writhes like a living creature as worripa adventures out of the den he shares with the girls — lumping them together is easier for him though he knows their names well enough by now. there is something choking he feels being surrounded by nothing but women — making him miss praimfaya with a fierce ache ...whilst pushing him to seek out the only masculine presence he really knew.

he seeks out @Mahler, though the fog works to ultimately confuse and misdirect him.

<333 sorry i took so long!

mahler roamed through the bypass. he had visited his usual locales, dropped by the fern den, sought phaedra for a spell, and now moved back toward sequoia's den. skaigona and worripa were growing in swift and healthy children despite their mother's absence, and mahler credited the strength of rivenwood for that.
he caught the scent of the boy before worripa materialized from the dawn-fog, a dark little shape with praimfaya's careful bearing. "hallo kleiner schatten," he grunted, lowering muzzle toward the small downy head.

no worries! <3

to worripa's delight mahler finds him. which was good because his developing sense of direction wasn't that great to begin with and adding the confusing, thick fog to the mix was setting worripa up for ultimate failure. the strange words are rough to worripa and in some sense makes him miss the language of his mother, despite that it is held like a shared secret between skaigona and himself. hei. worripa greets, tail wagging happily.

i waz lookin' for you. he declares, though beyond the want of fellow male company, there was no particular rhyme or reason to it.

"i am here." skaigona and worripa shared the language of their mother between them. mahler felt that this was good and well, for without their mother, they had firstly their sibling, then rivenwood. and he held hope, still, that the young commander would return. 
mahler continued on more slowly. "vould you like to go on a patrol vith me?" he inquired, thinking of the shortest route for the boy's young legs, and not one so close to the borders.

it is only the time between he declares rather astutely that he was searching for mahler and mahler's affirmation that he was found that worripa is left to contemplate why. perhaps it was instinctual, for the graf was undeniably the closest thing to a father that worripa had. or perhaps it was just because he felt a bit stifled around all the females he spent his time with — to no one's fault. if worripa'd been older it might've been an awkward lull, but he is not old enough to feel that kind of social awkwardness and thus does not. his tail wags, unaware that he is supposed to fill the silence.

he is relieved of the duty when mahler breaks the silence, asking if he'd like to join him on a patrol. not totally unfamiliar with the term — even if what it entailed was lost to him — he is eager as responds, yes!

"come along then," mahler said with a faux gruffness, turning and making a decent gait for them through a path fairly clear of clawing underbrush. it had been an elk trail, and the frequent wanderings of wolves had widened it into a proper footpath.
"now, vorripa," the graf grunted. "look around you as ve valk, and tell me if you see any other animals." he himself could scent vole-tracks, delicate upon their road, and the sweet fragrance of rabbits, bounding away from the wolves. would the growing child find this knowledge also?
worripa indeed followed along, and mahler praised him gruffly for the discovery of a pheasant and a doe as they went along.