Northstar Vale Lemon children! Go forth!

Rian was dozing upon the overlook, eyes heavy but mind racing. Sleep would not come, no matter how hard he tried to quell the anxiety now tightening like a noose about his throat. The events of the day were coming to him in fits and spurts—he barely remembered calling upon his courage and shepherding two of their youngest away from danger as his brothers, his brothers, faced the bear alone. As if somehow they were less important than the order Rannoch had given for him to retreat. But wait!—his rational side argued, one of the Frostfurs had to lead and Rannoch had chosen him, not Liffey or Rose or anyone else, to bear that burden.

He sighed and rolled onto his stomach, feeling the full weight of his responsibility for the first time. The eldest Frostfur understood, now, what Rannoch (and Cypress) expected of him and he wasn't sure if he was up to the task. In fact, he still wasn't sure what he was even doing out here with this rag-tag group of teenagers and children alike. The self-same niggling doubt that persisted throughout his turbulent childhood continued to grow as he cast his eyes down upon the Vale below. He'd failed Neverwinter, how could his brothers be so sure he wouldn't tuck tail and run from this, too? 

A shriek of alarm caused Rian to bolt to his feet as his muzzle whipped around towards the noise before his mind was even aware he was reacting. His ears pressed forward, his nose flared, and his whiskers quivered as he scanned the treeline for danger. Thankfully, the shadows were quiet (though a few of their number did natrually stir at the disquieting sound). Rian spotted Titmouse, looking dazed and entirely out of sorts. A quiet pang of concern made itself known, and lodged itself firmly betwixt his ribs. 

The earthen Beta considered as he observed Titmouse with a neutral slant to his lips—should he assist the boy, or let someone better suited such as Rannoch or Liffey handle it? Rian glanced towards Rannoch, then Cypress, and finally Liffey before deciding it was best to nip whatever it was in the bud.

He picked his way carefully through the slumbering pack, mindful not to make too much noise, and was soon within whispering distance from Titmouse. There was the tangy scent of urine, and it nearly caused his nose to wrinkle in disgust but, somehow, he managed to keep control of his expression and offer the young boy the gentlest look he could muster. "Hey," he said softly as his ears slowly relaxed to a more casual position atop his skull, "it's alright."