Neverwinter Forest i need breakfast before i face this shit

Cypress slipped out of the whelping den early that morning on a jaunt that was initially only supposed to be a quick trip to relieve himself — but a clumsy flutter of wings and a strangled-sounding “rrrawwwk!” immediately snared his attention. Eyes that were muddily transitioning from misty blue to eerie yellow sparked with interest as gangly paws brought him in the direction of the sound and oversized ears drew forward upon his crown. Long moments later, guided by the odd sounds, he came upon a raven fledging hunched on a hollow log, blue-black feathers ruffled in displeasure as frowning beak clacked together disapprovingly. The fledgling was a patently grumpy creature, and as his wings spread with an uncannily pterodactyl-like screech, Cypress laid his ears flat upon his skull and backed a few feet away. The baby bird hissed threateningly at Cypress, whose hackles flickered to life, wild and unkempt along his neck and shoulders as he, too, hunkered down to hold his ground. A curl of lip brought a thready growl in sassy reply to the hissing. They bore an uncanny resemblance to one another.

In the end, it was the bird who gave in, and Cypress puffed out his broadening chest with pride — another enemy had been vanquished in the name of Neverwinter! Further and further through the forest he followed the raven — “giddout’n stay out!” he snapped in his most threatening tone — until the fledgling’s mother took exception to the harassing wolf cub and dive-bombed Cypress with talons outstretched. Reflexively he cried out and curled himself into a tight ball, deflecting the blow with the longer fur at the nape of his neck. It didn’t break skin, but the flutter of wings that beat into him made him dizzy and frightened, and he fled further into the forest with his tail between his legs. If nothing else, Cypress was built for endurance and speed — and he didn’t know how long he ran before he came to a side-heaving stop.

The smell of fresh meat soon reached his nostrils, and he followed it like a cartoon caricature of himself — noise pointed skyward, eyes half-closed as he endeavored to find the delectable source, saliva pooling in the concave dip beneath his lolling tongue. He saw the chocolate and caramel boy with the irritated expression and dropped to his haunches in the dust a healthy distance away, catching his breath with a gusty sigh. “Didja hunt all those?” he questioned incredulously, regarding the older boy with something akin to astonishment.