Boartusk Heights flow like a river

The royal children were indeed at an awkward age. Nymphora had yet to actually speak a single word, at least in front of the adults- but all that listening was beginning to shape her mind, enough for her to seek out approval beyond what was owed to them from their birthright. Individual approval. She'd been ushered away from the adults by the handmaiden with much fuss after trying to tag along on an excursion, and so today, Nymphora was both restless and miserable. Normally, she'd go strike off into the palace cavern to sulk, eat some moths and maybe wreck some spider webs. But her attention would instead fall to her brother, who had the unfortunate luck of happening to be in eyesight of the scorned princess. There, the little soot sprite sat playing a game all on his own. 

Up, down, up, down, each descent marked by a clattering sound as the bone tumbled off the rocks. 

Nymphora wanted to play, but the Nocturne children were not all that good at co-operating together, nor at sharing. The freckled girl began marching over to try and wrestle the toy from her brother, a rumbling, babyish growl sounding in her throat. Giv it. She'd mumble out to him, ash-tipped ears flattened against her head. For no other reason that she was angry, and he dared to be nearby. Perhaps if she could win it from him, mother would approve.