Ankyra Sound in the giant's shadow

Age had not softened the boy; he was young and gruff, ready to conquer whatever was placed before him. More than a month old, Illidan was a feisty whelp turned into a boy very similar to his father. Though he was fond of the company of his siblings and his mother, he could often be seen on his own, tucked away in a place where he was not likely to be found unless he was being searched for. With the age that he had grown into, Illidan had taken to testing his boundaries. He wandered further and further from their family den every day. It was not uncommon to catch him trotting toward the lapping waters of the shoreline or digging feverishly through the sands. Though it was well past the point of him needing to learn his first few words, Illidan rarely made a sound. He was a peculiar young thing, but very much the spitting image of his two parents.
 
Working his way to the mouth of their den, Illidan searched the beach with an intense stare. On stubby limbs, he bound out into the sands and tumbled until he had rolled himself in a glittering blanket of pale beige. The watchful and tired eyes of his father could be felt on the back of his head, but Illidan did not cease his play. He hunkered his torso toward the ground and flagged his tail behind him until his rear end began to sway from side to side. Another bounding leap and he tossed sand into the air, yapping in pleasant surprise.