Wheeling Gull Isle your bones, your eager blood

The days pass quickly, each new dawn bringing with it a flurry of changes and discoveries for the youngest of Undersea.  Droman's eyesight was growing keener, his hearing clearer, and his ability to observe and notice things had grown unmistakeably better.  He was beginning to form opinions and preferences of his own, and as his personality developed, it was becoming quite clear that he was a very particular boy.  His general quietness was deceptive, for he was incredibly stubborn and willful.  When asked to do something he did not wish to do, instead of raising a fuss like his sister did, he simply went back to doing what he wanted to do the moment he had a chance.  

This produced no small amount of frustration for his guardians, particularly since he'd been introduced to the world outside the den.  His attempts to return outside were ceaseless now, and efforts to keep him inside always resulted in him simply running for the den's opening again as soon as he had the opportunity.  His sister's squealing protests often worked to his advantage, for they served as a great distraction.  Fortunately, today they were permitted to venture outside, so Droman joined his sister in her tentative explorations just beyond the mouth of their little home.

But it was cold, which the boy found mildly unpleasant.  And while he did not protest like his sister did, he found himself in agreement with her.  A tiny shiver ran the length of his body as a gentle breeze stirred the grasses around him.  Suddenly distracted from his discomfort, he attacked a nearby clump of tall grass that had swayed a bit too much for his liking.  Tiny, almost inaudible growls churred in his chest as he tore at the offending stalks, feeling immense satisfaction at his ability to vanquish his enemy.