Northstar Vale (o,..,o)

The boy crept along a hillock of swaying grasses and felt the summer sun across his back. The blue-silver of his spine was ignited like a fire; he turned and blinked as the direct light hit him, then found some solace as he ducked between some trees. As he moved through them, he discovered a small pond. It seemed to stem from nowhere, with a tiny (and I mean tiny) creek leading directly to the massive puddle.

Titmouse was sulking again... A habit which he'd fallen in to of late, wondering if he would ever be a warrior, ever be better - and it seemed, at least to the boy, that he was stuck. In the days since the bear had chased them all off to the mountains, Titmouse had indeed grown strong. He resembled a compacted version of his father - looking more and more like Peregrine by the day, but.. Smaller. Although he didn't know his parents, he knew he did not like how small he was.

As he passed along the edge of the depression where the water sat, stagnating yet alive with bugs, he was repulsed by it. Why couldn't he be big and strong like Rannoch? Wasn't he supposed to get big? Was this all he'd grow up to be? The boy paused and dipped his head towards the surface, as if to drink from the green-gray depths.. But instead he swatted at the surface, and watched his reflection distort with a scowl on his face.