Neverwinter Forest petroica traversi

Interestingly enough, where Rannoch had seen his brother with eyes still sealed shut, Cypress would carry no recollection of the dust bunny without his pearl-filmed baby blue gaze. As he blinked muzzily, looking at his brother in unabashed wonder as his infantile mind whirred wildly to catch up with processing this brand new sense, the soot sprite furrowed his brow in fierce concentration. He burbled, his head wobbling upon his potato-like lack of a discernible neck, as Rannoch thrust his snout forward. They sat there, nose to nose, staring at one another — and exchanging the breath of their excited snorts and little whimpers.

And then, in the way of the very young, Cypress grew irrevocably distracted — the towering forms of his parents loomed just behind Rannoch, and his tiny mouth opened in an involuntary gape of shock at the difference in size and breadth. He wormed his way toward his mother, a confusing thing — she had been merely a presence before; a warm, comforting embrace — the source of his sustenance and the warm reassurance of her tongue tenderly sweeping his tiny body from tip to tail. Now that his world had opened up to involve the use of his eyes, he frankly stared — tilting his head back with limited success as he propelled himself like a tiny turtle into her furry abdomen and stared cross-eyed at the body he had explored with his paws and mouth and largely ineffectual nose.

It was so much to take in, but the act of squeezing his eyes shut wasn’t available to him at such a young age; he didn’t know that was what he wanted, and merely reached both paws up to sweep his face with them like a bathing hamster.