Golden Glade sober

The boys flailing limbs pummeled Alder's muzzle, but nonetheless the King got his son standing - now he looked like an heir. Big, strong, adventurous: not tiny and albino, screaming all day long and pissing off his dad. Truth be told, he only loved and cared for Rowan because he was his son; he'd have killed the runt as soon as he was born if he hadn't already lost a litter in his life.

Hawthorn whined at him, waddling towards Alder with eyes narrowed - Alder couldn't tell if he had a plan, or if he was just trying to see better - and the ruler felt pride bursting the seams of his being. He was thrilled to lay there and let his son stumble his way to papa - his wide grin never once left his maw, even as again his ginger-hued child fell forward. Alder reached forward to help Hawthorn to his paws, but it seemed he was doing fine on his own - with a shining blue eye, the Pryor father watched his biggest son pad up and turn his baby blue eyes on Alder as if he were saying "what now?". 

A whine of joy broke through Alder's throat, and he placed his head level with his boy before reaching out to nuzzle him. His hushed words were for the child alone, unaware if or how well the dark spot could hear, but proud nonetheless. 

                               "Good job, Hawthorn!"