Firefly Glen [BWH] névoa ‹‹

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tvar trudges through the autumn chill, clutching within his jaws the half-eaten rabbit that falcon had not finished. it was fat, plump; and once they settled for the night, it would make for a good meal again.

he wasn't in the habit of letting anything go to waste, not when the season was turning colder and the prey would become more scarce. and that survival instinct was one he was still trying to ingrain within his son.

come on, boy. the man rumbles past the thick fur clenched between teeth, but when there is no response from his son, he turns halfway. evergreen eyes cast over his shoulder, landing upon his son who sniffs curiously at the base of a tree.

tvar huffs. falcon. he snaps. and only then does the adolescent snap to attention, ears tilting back, and raising a foreleg to begin signing furiously. quick and adept movements. there are other wolves this way, father. he says. tvar watches his son silently, a solemn glimmer within his eyes.

falcon was even better than him at ptero, now. but that wasn't all too surprising, was it? tvar had only ever been sufficient.

it felt like, in some way, they were keeping his mother's memory alive. tvar falls into silent thought, thinking distantly of @Towhee Jr as he follows after his son.

you had better hope they are friendly, falk. he remarks.

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