Neverwinter Forest throw my fist

Okay, so, braking — it wasn’t something Cypress was very good at yet. Adulthood would strip the chubbiness from his broad-shouldered frame and give him towering legs built for endurance and speed — but for now, when Rannoch drew to an abrupt stop and whipped around to face the soot sprite, Cypress tripped over his own paws and went flying with a dusty thump. He clambered uninjured to his paws, prancing toward the dust bunny with a stiff-legged gait, his fur wild and unkempt in a puffed out expression of irritation.

With his own rump wriggling excitedly in the air, Cypress bowed his forequarters and yapped — bouncing and taunting Rannoch, interacting with his brother similarly to how he’d interacted with the clattering strip of rawhide. Pert pink tongue lolling from betwixt needle-like teeth, Cypress too wrinkled his muzzle with a growl that was more endearing than menacing — a warbling, pitchy sound the undulated like the uneven buzz of a bee. His milky blue eyes glinted with wicked mischief as he steadied himself, paws spread to shoulder width to afford him greater balance as he kept his eyes trained on his brother.