Dragoncrest Cliffs age of phase

Meerkat slept deeply in their den. Though Njord was lament to leave her warm embrace, the image of Sobo’s icy stare forbade him to rest. There was no doubt that a wound festered in his son’s heart and, though the redtail did not know the antidote, he knew he must try to mend it.

He set of with intent and purpose. Though his doppelganger was good at evading his father, Njord was unrelenting in his pursuit. Eventually, he would come across the boy. “@Sobo,” Njord called with a firm voice once he came within view.

Sobo.

The boy heard his name even though he was elbow deep in a hole he was digging, but at first did not respond. The voice made him falter just a moment, then he gathered himself and all his righteous irritation and ignored it. He went right on flinging dirt behind him for several seconds longer, uncaring if he got any on Njord in the process.

By now he had turned his thoughts of Meerkat over so many times in his head, he could no longer remember his fear that she would steal his da away. In fact, he reasoned to himself that none of this was really Meerkat's fault at all, though he still did not like her and her Barbie-esque fake positivity. Their extravagant wedding party had not helped his opinion of her much, either. Nor did his conspicuous exclusion from assisting much help his opinion of his father.

With a huff he emerged and pinned Njord with the same cool gaze from that day by the lake, with a touch of calm obstinence borrowed directly from his mothers. Rosalyn, specifically. What?