Hideaway Strath all of us speak with different tongues

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Roarke is content to worry his bone, sharpening his needle sharp baby teeth whilst working to strengthen his jaw. These things are unknown to winter’s bane as he crunches and suckles the sweet marrow from it’s core, peering up at his father every now and then to assure himself that the sinister Ceannasach has not gone anywhere. He retains much better now than he has before and has begun to understand that just because Arturo is no longer in his sight does not mean that he is not in Arturo’s. His head lifts and the bone falls from betwixt his lips as Eirlys shoots from the den. Roarke’s tail slaps against the hard earth like the beat of a war drum, ears perking atop his skull and salmon pink tongue drawing across his jowls. Arturo catches his twin’s attention though and the snowdrop is lost to the fascination of their father. A bit dejected Roarke is about to return to his bone when Molly makes an appearance with a sharp bark.

His dark pelage sister bounds towards him and his butt wiggles despite the low warning growl that erupts unbroken from his throat. He bows his head, lips parted, a single pearly tooth peaking from beneath lifted upper lip. Mine. Roarke is a paradox in that moment — showing possession and ready to spar — er puppy spar anyway — to retain his right to the bone and yet he is undoubtedly happy that Molly is paying attention to him (even if it is for his treasure). He bounds to his paws quickly and lowers himself into a play bow. Spar me for it! He encourages of the first born Lotturo.

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