Northstar Vale bottomless vales and boundless floods

Something wasn’t right about the way Rannoch responded to what Cypress believed was a fairly innocuous query, and his lantern yellow eyes narrowed briefly in mute scrutiny at the canned reply. After a beat, “Okay, Noch,” he said gently, and his quiet baritenor was as unobtrusive and nonthreatening as he could make it. When Rannoch was ready to talk about what was troubling him, Cypress would be an active audience — but pressing the grayscale alpha would only add to his stress. “We’ve got ourselves a real pretty place here,” he said instead, seeking to turn his brother’s attention to the positives. “I bet mama and paw would’ve loved it.” The words didn’t bring him pain this time — he missed them, and he always would, but with Rannoch and Rian’s help he was learning to be happy again.

“I’m…” The raven weighed his words with typical meticulousness. “I’m doing a lot better.” He found a smile for his littermate, a rare glint of emotion working its way into his sulphureous gaze, and said with uncharacteristic optimism, “It just feels like things’re gonna be better here.” For Cypress, this level of faith in a bright future was next door to gushing. “Please, Cypress, contain yourself; this level of excitement is unacceptable,” said his harried muse. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about an alliance — but it’s not just about an alliance.” His voice was sly, and he waggled his eyebrows with what he hoped was comical suavity — but it probably just looked like he was having some kind of weird aneurysm. “I can leave it for another time, though,” he teased.

With deliberate casualness, “So. What’s up with you?” he asked.