Neverwinter Forest black leaf

I am very tired and I think I mentioned eyes like fifty times. Sorrysorry ♥

Cypress did not recoil from October’s embrace. He endured it with quiet dignity, the miasma of detachment that had settled about his broadening shoulders lifting just long enough to allow him to focus — truly see her and Kjalarr for the first time since his parents’ deaths. Blinking rapidly, “I didn’t know a bear would really come,” he mumbled guiltily, drawing back to regard the fiery-eyed girl with lantern yellow eyes that seemed to drift in and out of focus, “but my paw — our paw — ” he hastily included Kjalarr “ — would be proud that you kept your promise.” He referred, of course, to October’s preliminary interview, when the vivacious wanderer had first set foot at the borders of Neverwinter Forest.

The new alpha’s words woke a maelstrom of emotions within the orphaned raven: fury that Kjalarr thought he could succeed where Scimitar had not; gratitude for the berserker’s conciliatory manner; guilt that his outburst had thrown a wrench into October’s plans; and swiftly growing affection for the only brother he had left. Cypress’ overarching feeling was dread, though — had he found the neptune-eyed Loðbrok just to lose him again? He didn’t want Kjalarr to go anymore than he wanted October to go. Despite his youth, the nearly half-grown wolf was swiftly beginning to understand the futility of October’s promise, and he quietly intoned, “You might have to. You might not get to choose. You’re not lying, but that’s not true.” He looked at her searchingly for a moment before the light in his eyes palled and he grew quiet. Quietly he murmured to himself, the consonants and vowels blurring together, his brow furrowed in thought — and after a beat, he rallied as much as he could.

“Anything you decide is fine,” he said at last, yielding to their united will. “I didn’t mean to mess everything up. Just — if you see a bear — please — ” His throat tightened and he fell silent, suddenly exhausted. He hadn’t talked this much in weeks. Closing the distance between himself and Kjalarr, he sought to butt the bridge of his muzzle against the underside of his brother’s, jaws parting to mouth in submission and affection at the older wolf’s chin. He turned to October, making to repeat the gesture, and announced rather abruptly, “I love you. You’re my family.” The words fell with heavy finality, and he hedged toward the periphery after their uttering, for some reason eager to make his escape.