Arrow Lake you deserve grandchildren with 82 legs

Trench did not see the swift motion that had thrust Stag forward in a threatening snap. When he glanced up to see the larger boy looming toward him, there should have been a spurring of fear. The dark young shadow did not seem to be swayed. A single blink closed the dark lids over his beryl gaze. Pride might have reigned dominantly in Stag, but Trench was not so easily swayed by such things. It was possible that time would turn him – would make him a boy of ego – but there were no signs of that in the moments he shared with the pale older child. Trench was calm, almost fearless, when faced with the snapping motion of his half-sibling.
 
’First.’
 
The dark child blinked at this. He knew enough to know that first was the beginning, so that must have made this boy the oldest. “First…” the lean child tested this moniker on his tongue, finding it peculiar but unwilling or unable to admit such a thing. Drawing his crown upward, the inkling cast an easy smile toward Stag. “I Trench,” he offered. Not the first. Not even the best, but there he was.