Neverwinter Forest i felt free

The tension in Rannoch’s little body was contagious, and Cypress felt his own hackles, tousled and unkempt, lighting a wildfire down his spine. He skidded neatly to a stop beside the dandelion fluff boy, adding his voice to the raucous cacophony. The butterfly was largely untroubled by the racket and its blithe hovering seemed to taunt Rannoch even further — it dipped low on a curling breeze, remaining just barely out of reach, and alighted upon the trunk of a tree several annoying feet above the grayscale cub. At once, Cypress crouched and leapt, his paws scrabbling and loosing several chunks of tree bark — but he couldn’t reach the butterfly and it seemed utterly oblivious to his rage. Turning his head to Rannoch with childish desperation, he stomped a tiny paw. “Nah!” he wheedled, accompanied by some babyish babble — most likely a dissertation on the cruelty of butterflies. Perhaps if Cypress couldn’t get it, his brother could.