Neverwinter Forest The beams of first light [Birth (M)]

A voice arose from the den, but the syllables were too muffled for Cypress to hear. He stood well away from Kjalarr and Maude, well away from the hollow mouth whose cavernous gut sheltered the new prince of the forest. “Torgeir,” Kjalarr called, and it strengthened the boy — straightened him. He stood a little taller, shuffling his uncertain, gangly limbs and gathering them into some semblance of dignity. “Are they valkyrja now?” he asked, trying out the new word. “Will they appear in your son’s dreams?”

He watched expressionlessly as the wolf Kjalarr had called “Maude” backed away and seemed to melt into the shadows — but he could not bring himself to draw any nearer himself. “Nephew,” he repeated hesitantly, a sway of one ear betraying his unease. He was younger than Kieran had been, but he thought he remembered the ruddy behemoth — until he was reunited with his uncle, Kieran would probably always seem impossibly large, though not as large as Scimitar — and Cypress was stricken by the thought that Kjalarr’s son would have such a poor example of an uncle in comparison. “Can I visit you all another day?” the eidolon hedged. It was simply too much to process for the boy in man’s clothing.

“I just wanted to wish you — and him — and your mate well.”