Northstar Vale the keeper

Fortunately for Rian, Cypress was coincidentally moving in the direction of the very same trees, trying to find some shade. Call him contrary, but he wasn’t sure what was worse — the oppressive heat of summer or the unforgiving chill of winter. His heavy black pelage was stuck in a prolonged stage of spring shedding, the paler charcoal of his dense undercoat peeking through the indelible black. Honestly, he looked a little silly — skinny in some places, overstuffed in others — but he’d never really been concerned with his appearance.

A little breathlessly, “Hey, Rian!” he called out the moment the espresso-and-nutmeg male came into view. “Gettin’ hot.” He crossed the distance that separated them and reached up to mouth at his brother’s lower jaw. Cypress, unlike Rian, had always been perfectly satisfied with the way the hierarchy had worked itself out, but there was nothing perfunctory about his greeting. Affection burned brightly within those eerie lantern yellow eyes, saying, “I love you,” even as his actions said, “I respect you.” The sulphureous-eyed raven was under the impression that Rian had come here to beat the heat, not seek him out, so he offered a comment that probably seemed a bit out of the blue: “You made it just in time,” he said. “Sun’ll catch up to us soon and then the best pace is probably the rock ledges.”