Horizon Ridge Look whose talking now!

The Second Born’s tail wagged in such a furious manner that Ragnar thought he was going to take off into flight with the way his butt wiggled viciously with the motion. The boy seemed to have (for now anyway) listened to Ragnar’s warning for he slid into the space between Ragnar’s legs, his eyes squeezed shut at what Ragnar assumed was the onslaught of light. He was so used to it that it hardly bothered him anymore and knew that, eventually, it would come to be this way for the children as well. The child’s eyes seemed to have opened again, Ragnar assumed when his body began to squirm with each wave of his tail, the appendage beating against Ragnar’s chest like an overeager drummer boy (hence Ragnar’s chest was the drum) the rhythmic ‘thump, thump’ against the hardened sinew and bone causing the Viking’s eyebrows to rise.

“róa sjálfur Tveir,” Ragnar spoke to the Second Born, working to make his soft, heavily accented voice soothing so the boy might take the calmness and absorb it. Ragnar did not want to have to punish him for becoming overzealous and forgetting the conditions on which he was allowed outside of the birthing den in the first place. “You will have plenty of time to know this world, too.” There was no need to rush and especially no need when Ragnar was afraid it might anger the Gods besides. Tveir head butted Ragnar’s chin then, causing the Viking to lift his head out of Thistle’s mini-me’s reach as the boy attempted to babble out something. “You will learn to speak in time, Tveir. Slow down and enjoy your childhood.” If there was any advice Ragnar had to offer his children it was that.