Neverwinter Forest spirit of the stairwell

The air whooshed from Cypress’ lungs as Rannoch delivered a swift punch to his abdomen — “oof!” — and for a moment or two it stunned the little raven into a sense of enforced calm. He watched the sky above him with its darkening clouds and strange, heavy stillness and allowed oxygen to seep back into him slowly — and then, invigorated by the deep pull of his breath, he bounded to his paws with the intention of bludgeoning his brother good and proper. His muzzle wrinkled, lips curling up to reveal his fangs, as he bent his gangly limbs into a poor parody of a stalking cat — but just as he made ready to pounce, a new wolf arrived on the scene.

“Whossit?” questioned the grayscale cub, and Cypress nodded agreement. Who was this dapper wolf with the bright, burnished fur and ruddy eyes? The raven fledgling stepped forward as the wolf introduced himself and bent his tall body low, his infinitesimal forepaws aiming to find purchase on the bridge of Goldhawk’s nose so he could fix the stranger with a cross-eyed stare of scrutiny. “Sunummasorm?” he parroted, looking to Noch with a measure of consternation. Sometimes, if one of the boys didn’t have the answer to particular question, the other would be able to fill in — but Rannoch looked just as confused as Cypress himself. “Sunummasumma?” he fumbled, the new and unfamiliar syllables becoming a mouthful of garbled alphabet soup that brought a bright, amused smile to his face. “Noch! Ayu sunnamumma sorm? Gohawk?”

Catching the tail end of the hawk’s question, the little raven puffed himself up proudly. “I Cy!” he proclaimed proudly. “Cy’piss Benowio Fossur.”