Blackfeather Woods dwindling

It was true — Euron did not have the most appropriate coat for stealth. He was a wolf of unnatural contrast. The white patches on his shoulder the most noticeable of all. But he would learn. Some tricks he had already learned in stalking small creatures and his siblings. New ones awaited as he graduated to trickier prey, the most challenging of all no doubt being his own father. Euron had been cut from his cloth in more ways than one.

Too young and naive to realize that Cicero had him made before he really even started, he continued following after his sire with growing hubris, that he could go undetected by him. Until:

"...Euron..."

Most of what Cicero said did not register to the boy. But his own name did and now his curiosity had been piqued to the detriment of his game. Euron couldn't resist. He bounded forward, abandoning his stealth entirely but not losing the inherent grace and quietude of his steps. "You wait!" He chirped as he hastened to Cicero. "I wants to safrice!"