Dragoncrest Cliffs and build a lego house.

It was a quiet, calm day. The sun peeked out from clouds somewhere high overhead and the hung seemingly motionless in between it and the ground. The lake that centered the territory was still as a plate of glass and just as clear under the circumstances, providing Artaax the perfect mirror in which to stare at himself as he found himself so unexpectedly doing just then. He stood up to his elbows (or the wolf equivalent of them) in the water, peering with wide, curious eyes at the image of himself that fluttered from the ripples that echoed from his dripping fur. There was plenty about himself that was different than he last had seen, but only one of these nuances stood out to him just then. Or, two rather.

The shifting of his eye color had likely been gradual, subtle. It had probably been steadily progressing for days, barely noticeable to anyone who hadn't been watching for it (so anyone but his moms). Artaax himself certainly had been unaware until a few minutes ago when he'd haphazardly chased a large, croaking frog into the water and caught sight of his reflection while trying to peer into the depths for his quarry. Now he stood transfixed, overcome with curiosity about the face that stared back at him. His head tilted back and forth as he gazed, then slowly he reached his nose down to sniffle at the reflection of his nose, wondering if it smelled like him...