Dragoncrest Cliffs Dance with my dogs in the nighttime

Much like his mothers, Artaax too had spent a fair amount of time resting since their return to the Cliffs. It was so wonderful to be home. He had always known that their territory was far superior to any other in existence, but being here again, he was struck by just how much better. After the empty wasteland that was the Caldera (in his eyes) and the dark, twisted, rotting forest of Blackfeather, Dragoncrest had never looked more beautiful to him. A sense of contented peace had consumed him since his return, and he'd allowed himself to be swept away by it and be lazy, just this once.

It had been a terrible, terrible mistake.

Artaax wasn't as quick as he usually was to answer Wildfire's summons. He squirmed, and rolled, and dragged himself up from his slumber, taking time to stretch and yawn and shake himself before setting off to meet her. And so when he arrived, it was to find his mother not standing alone waiting for him. Bobby was there. Bobby had beaten him.

The boy blinked at his brother in surprise. How had this happened? How was it possible? His eyes narrowed as he looked the black wolf up and down scrutinizingly. Maybe... Maybe Bobby had just already been with Wildfire when she'd called. That was it. It had to be. Bobby did not beat him to places. Bobby didn't beat him at all.

Still a little unsettled, Artaax took the final steps forward to greet his mother with a small smile and a press of his crown to her cheek - a little odd-looking considering his size these days versus hers.