Golden Glade sober

Hawthorn tilted his dark head to the side, still looking up at the strange face and those bright blue eyes - wait, it only had one eye. He frowned — unlike the wolves he'd vaguely seen before, this creature, his father bore not eyes, but one eye. Hawthorn blinked, then almost instantly forgot his previous train of thought and simply grinned a small, toothless, yet nevertheless, still cute smile at his dad - an occurence that would grow rarer and rarer as he aged. The smile faded away into a confused frown as a muffled whine sounded through the air, and the large wolf lowered his large head to him.

Confusion, and just maybe, a bit of fear coursed through him (though he would never admit it). He lashed his tiny tail, brows drawing together in a frown, and jaws opening to reveal a toothless mouth. Hawthorn's fear vanished however when the large man nuzzled him gently and whispered sounds to him, sounds that were soothing and appeared to have meaning, but sounds that he simply did not understand. Hawthorn still smiled, however, although, as always, it went away after a mere second, changing instead into a look of concentration.

Bored, the youngest Pryor child gave up on standing and fell on the ground, rolling onto his back so his pudgy belly showed and as he gazed up at the one blue eye, he let loose a whine and a whimper and yet another toothless smile.