Blackfeather Woods Bite me, banana man

He grew, the boy, quickly now, into a face that was brooding and handsome, a frame, while not the tallest nor the shortest, ought to be well built one day. his silence persisted through all these changes, though he broke it more often,  now. He was a shadow in the wood, hardly seen and yet all too good at watching, listening, learning. 

his paws brought him to Redgrove, now; the figure of his snow-kissed sister he noted quickly. yet he did not halt his advance, instead moving to the edges of the Grove till his paws rested in the soft snow and dark red that was the wilted flowers of the once glorious roses. in winter, the thorns that lay beneath the beauty were all too visible, making it easy to avoid them. his gaze lifted to his sister's, silent and stoic as simply he watched.