Hideaway Strath oh i tried that. he bit the vet

Arturo hears the breath that Mallaidh draws in and listens for her as she disturbs the underbrush she has taken shelter within and soon she appears a dark smudge against the emerald green of the grass. Arturo holds the stern and terse set of his lips, the rigid posture of his body for as long as he can though her murmured apology threatens to break it. Though guilt twists within Ceannasach’s gut because she looks so dejected, so small and her curiosity has not brought any harm to her or hurt anything Arturo does not tell her that it is alright as he wants to. “We don’t sneak off on our own Mallaidh,” He chides her (his words are also meant for Roarke whom he knows is listening) reminding himself that he is her father and it is his job. He knows what happens when he does not set rules and boundaries and he does not want any more disobedient children. He and disobedience have never and will never settle well together. Teaghlaigh has strict laws against it, after all and if the children are not taught to obey then they may find themselves cast out as others before them; and that is not something that Arturo wants.

“You may join us on the borders today but next time we want something we ask for it politely.” Manners. It was all about the manners to the Fearghal patriarch. He was not raising heathens, after all. Soon the Lotturos will be hold enough to participate in the heir trials and he will be pushing them to think about trades but for now he introduces them to things when he can and allows them their mischievous fun. Fiery gaze of twin suns settles on his two children, watching as Mallaidh launches herself at Roarke without preamble. Still in pout mode Roarke does not notice her right away and when he does he is startled and tumbles into Ceannasach’s legs as their bodies collide. Arturo steps back quickly to give the children room to wrestle, allowing them their childish delights to cherish them while they are small and learning, to cherish them while they need Lotte and him in a way that they soon will cease to need them. Roarke scrambles to find his footing and lets out his quickly little “Raaaahhhh!” a roar that Arturo has come to assume is some kind of battle cry as he attempts to grasp whatever of Molly he can get in his tiny little jaws. Winter’s Bane is pudgy, though, and he has yet to learn how to use his weight to his advantage and thus it works against him.

Arturo watches the pair for a few moments longer, ears alert for noises that do not belong from neutral territory outside the Strath. “Roarke, Mallaidh,” He calls to the pair in attempts to garner their attention and cease their wrestling. He did have a patrol to finish, after all. “You can finish your wrestling match later. Lets finish up our patrol.” He gestures to the stretch of invisible border that lays before them with slim, sharply featured muzzle.