Sleeping Dragon And I'll undress

Hvit was growing, as anyone could tell, but he'd yet to speak a single word. Always when in the presence of others the boy remained silent, keeping his voice to himself and just listening to the others around him. Every word said he'd heard, but rarely could he actually put a meaning behind them. Yet, never would anyone have guessed that he used the words heard, for he'd taken to portraying himself as something of a mute. It was purely selective, however, the little use that his vocal cords received being something that he'd made a conscious decision to do. But, it wasn't always that they were left to collect dust, as the boy sometimes stole away to a place where he could be left alone. There is where he'd practice his speech with himself, and it was there that he'd sneaked away from his siblings to.

If he went out into the open, the den was still visible to him, but he'd stationed himself away where he couldn't see it just by turning his head. Movement was necessary if he wanted to look upon his home, and so he'd decided several days back that his chosen location was a perfect one; if he couldn't see them, then they couldn't see him, and so never would anyone know that he was there. Obviously, there existed plenty of holes within his theory, but each one had been waved off as if they didn't matter. After all, he'd yet to be caught, so surely that meant that he never would be.

After having plopped himself down and gotten comfortable, his session of speech began. He'd started by rambling off a bunch of incoherent gibberish, warming up his throat so that he could better speak. It was only when he'd finished with that, that the actual talking began, having started with a soft, "Moe." Hvitserk had heard another say it before, though there was a second part to go along with it that he often dropped. "Moe-bah." Meant to be moba, for it was a word that he'd taken a liking too despite having no clue as to what it meant. "'Ey-yuh—heya," came next, the pronunciation simple enough that he'd hardly ever struggled with it. "Heya, heya, heya."

Though Portia was not one to seek out trouble, rarely sticking her nose in business that wasn't hers (when it came to more important matters, that is)-- she did often walk nearby Gyda's den when she was making her way to tend to different plants. Today was no different, and she kept a safe enough distance from the den as to not intrude on the mothers space. As she walks, her pale fur ruffling as a warm breeze came by, the soft voice of a determined child caught her attention.

She shifts her direction towards the voice, her ears perking curiously. She notices the ashy coat of a small child, unsure which one this was, but hoping it was the child she had helped to heal not too long ago. With a sweet, bell-like voice, she calls out to the boy, her head lowered and tail waving in a friendly way, "Hey, hun."

For several long moments, the boy had worked more on moba, trying to say it just the same as he'd heard it. Despite the simplicity of the word, however, he'd struggled with it. Frustration had threatened to settle into his composure, but quickly had it been shoved away before snagging hold of him. If he didn't get it then, then he could always keep trying, which was exactly what he'd done. Life was all about trial and error and, with him being a child, he didn't get deterred by failure. It was pushed past with the intentions of being overcome, the notion of quitting altogether being far away from his thoughts.

When he'd heard another voice—it wasn't like any of the ones that he was used to hearing—was when he'd gone mute, looking up at the female with an expression that clearly said I wasn't doing anything. Caught during one of his self-lessons, he froze, watching her and waiting for what was to come next. Had he been heard? No matter, Hvit would definitely need to find a new spot to retreat to in the days to come.

She watches as the boy quickly-- and adorably-- retreats from whatever he was doing and stares at her with a wide pair of innocent eyes. She smiles sweetly, unable to find it in her to judge the child. While Portia had no desire to have her own family, her maternal instinct was somewhat impressive. Maybe it was the caretaker inside her that just knew the ins and outs of pup care, or maybe she truly did have it in her to be a stay at home mom sort of gal. Regardless, she tilts her head to him.

"My name is Portia," she says softly. "I am a Skayona." She wonders if the boy knows what that means, or has heard it before-- probably not, but it feels ok to talk too much to a child. "Do you have a name, sweetheart?"

If he'd been heard, the stranger hadn't made any indications in regards to it. He was allowed to carry on with the belief that his voice had slipped by undetected, which came as a great relief. With the concept of speaking still being so new to him, and so many words existing that he didn't possess a meaning for, Hvitserk wasn't the least bit comfortable speaking around others just yet—and perhaps he never would be, but that's something meant to be addressed at another time. In the meantime, he relied on others just knowing what he wanted, but would frequently make attempts at getting his point across via puppy charades. His methods of communication were no different in his current situation, either, though there wasn't any sort of movement able to be completed that might translate to Hvitserk.

So when Poor-shah—he repeated her name several times over in his head, wishing to remember it for the purpose of practice later on—asked if he had a name, the whelp was able to offer nothing more than a nod. He had a name, yes, but made no efforts to share it with her.

A broader grin lightens her features up even further, her eyes still shining. "How wonderful," she coos, as though him having a name was some impressive feature. It was not, of course, but unless the child knew better Portia felt that every child had a right to some extra praise. She didn't pester the child for his name, she only assumed the poor thing couldn't pronounce it-- or was too shy to speak it, and neither deserved any harassment... it wasn't that important just yet. 

She glances towards the area around them, her ears perking as she glances to a pile of rocks. Thick, green stems grew from a crack in the rocks, uneven leaves jutting from them. At the top perches small bulbs of yellow, a few fully blossomed into their weedy flowers. She noses towards the yellow things. "Do you know what those are, Goufa?" she asks him, implementing a word she'd heard her Heda use when referring to the children. She didn't think the child would know, but perhaps she could get a gardening buddy out of this little guy. 

The lack of insistence on his name being given had come as a relief to the boy, tail wagging behind him. Wonderful wasn't a word that he knew just yet, but the tone of her voice led him to believe that it was something good. That alone made his tail move back and forth just a wee bit faster, a smile lighting up his face. Praise wasn't something he could understand, but he knew a kind voice when he heard one, and Poor-shah was one of those nice voices. Still, though, she wasn't someone that he was willing to speak in front of.

Hvit's attention was directed elsewhere, following the cues of the older wolf until he'd spotted what she was talking about. He didn't know what the thing was, but had become curious. Instead of answering her with a nod or shake of his head, the boy had made his way over to the mystery object. Once it'd been reached, he'd nosed around at it, taking in a few deep breaths—which had ended up being a mistake on his part. After the second or third sniff, he'd sneezed, the force of it having been enough to send him falling back onto his butt. Immediately, his baby blues had sought out her gaze, several questions swimming around within them. What was the thing? What had it done? What had he done?

The boy didn't answer her, but she hadn't expected him to. To Portia's great surprise, relief, and excitement, the boy actually made his way towards the rock pile! The whelp sniffed the flowers curiously, but fell back in a giant-- for a boy, anyway-- sneeze. She repressed a laugh, instead pursing her lips into a tight, amused smile. He looked confused beyond all his days, so she offered a bit of insight. "A sneeze," she gentle told him, moving towards him to sit. "You sniffed up too much pollen, hun, it caused you to sneeze." Pollen, he wouldn't know what that is.

"These are Dandelions," she tells him softly, "A type of plant. Plants have pollen, and it tickles your nose--" she proceeds to do the same to his stomach with her paw, a gentle tickle to remind him of the action in case he didn't know "-- and causes you to sneeze." How much of this went over the boys head, she'd never know, but she liked speaking to him anyway.

When she'd smiled at him, he'd pouted, not yet understanding what he'd done. Thankfully, though, she'd started to speak soon after, explaining to him what had happened—a sneeze. It was strange, but the word seemed to fit what he'd done somehow, and so he'd accepted it. A new word for him to try out later on, and he had a meaning to support it. A string of words followed that, which he knew most of, or at least believed he did. Pollen was, however, something he didn't know. With a tilt of his head, a look of confusion overtook his features, expecting to be told what pollen was, exactly.

Rather than being told what pollen was, he was first given more information on the flower and why he had sneezed. They were dandy-lions, and apparently had pollen in them, which was what had caused him to sneeze. The information had taken a moment or two to be fully processed, but was pushed along by her tickling. With his face cracking into a smile, he'd nodded, showing that he'd understood enough of what had been said. Information on dandy-lions and pollen wasn't enough for the boy's mind, however, and so he'd watched Poor-shah, waiting to hear what else she could tell him.

He seems to listen-- to understand, even, and it causes the bell-like chime in Portia's voice to ring even clearer and sweeter. The boy was precious-- a gift among nature. So young and so eager to learn... it was truly marvelous. While the woman had no intentions of settling down herself, the company of Gyda's children were plenty enough for her.

"Have you heard of a bee, sweetheart?" she asks, expected a head nod or shake in response. "The yellow and black bugs that fly around-- they're very fluffy, if you ever get the chance to see one up close," she adds brightly, tail waving. "Pollen is how more flowers are made... the bees take it and give it to other flowers, where they share that pollen with their own and grow new flowers." Her description is somewhat wordy, but Portia had never slowed down when talking about plants-- today, to a child it was no different. 

Just as he'd expected, she had a lot more to share with him. This time, she'd mentioned bees, and then went on to explain what they were and how they contributed to the world. All the while that she spoke, he listened, offering a shake of his head when a question had been sent his way. He had not heard of bees prior to her mentioning of them, which, perhaps, made him pay closer attention. The boy enjoyed learning most of the time, and was especially drawn towards the woman's voice. She did not sound like those that he was more familiar with, which made her interesting. Couple that with the fact that she was teaching him things, and it wouldn't come as a surprise that he'd decided she was his new favourite adult so far.

Taking in all the new information had taken him a moment, but once he had, his brows furrowed. No more than a second later and Hvit had plucked the dandy-lion from the ground, his head then turning to scan the surrounding area until he'd located what it was that he'd been seeking. Thereafter, the boy was quick to move towards another dandy-lion, which he'd then dropped his flower on. Like the bees did, he'd wanted to share the pollen with the other flower. Again, he'd looked to Poor-shah, a wide smile on his face whilst his tail wagged, for he was certain that he'd just helped out.

As Portia watches the child, her ears prick upwards in a brief surprise-- unsure exactly why in the world he had plucked the thing from the ground. It took her a few moments to comprehend why he'd just picked a Dandelion and dropped in atop another one, but when she realized what he thought he had down a smile was repainted across her features. Though he hadn't done it completely right, his lil mind was actually on the right track. It was far more complicated than just a drop-off, but no matter, no reason to spoil his puppy pride. Maybe one day she'd teach him how it was really done.

"Wonderful, hun," she praises anyway, tail wagging happily behind her. She lowers her head to give the child a gentle nudge to the cheek. When she raises her head she glances away from the child and towards the den-- it was barely in sight from where they stood now. He was near home-- safe it seemed. "Would you like me to take you home, child?" she asks him, her august green gaze landing back on him. 

The uncertainty in the woman's expression caused for him to wonder if he'd done it wrong, but the second her smile had returned he'd cast aside such thoughts. He'd done a good job, as was concluded from her given praise. If all else failed, he knew that he'd be able to do the work of a bee, so his life was set. Her nudge was welcomed, and an attempt at returning it was made before she'd pulled away. Thereafter, he'd waited to hear more, but his attention was instead directed towards home. The question was considered for a moment or two, giving him enough of time to decide that he didn't want to go back yet. Despite that, he'd given a nod, for even though he didn't want to return, he assumed that it was necessary. Poor-shah was probably busy, and he didn't want her to get into any trouble because of him.

Whenever she'd start to move, the boy would follow, keeping close to her the entire time. He knew her name, as well as what she both looked and smelled like, and so there'd come a day in which he'd seek her out again. Until then, he'd replay her lessons over in his head until they were seared into his brain, never to be forgotten.

She smiles, though the boy appears to be somewhat hesitant he agrees to come along anyway. "Okay child," she says softly, and urges him before her. She walks behind him, making sure his tiny legs could carry him forward. When they get to the den-- which was not a far walk at all-- she bends down to nose his cheek softly. "Thank you for listening to me, hun. You are incredibly smart," she tells him with a smile. She uttered a few more words of praise in hopes that he'd fall in love with plants as she had before she parted, a broad smile painted across her freckled muzzle.