Stone Circle the half moon said: these nights are fogged and slow,

He finds solace in the night, now that he has reign to wander. There is simply something to the dark that the daylight doesn't hold. The dance of light has long fled the forest ground to give way to the hesitant kiss of the moon, and while he misses the sun, he finds these hours hold more mystery than when the light spreads even to the coolest shadows, and this unknown is what intrigues him the most.

With his recent sprout in growth, the boy hasn't yet gained control of his footing, and the shadows complicate things. He imagines himself noisier than he'd been in many days, and as he moves he feels a branch snap under paw. He jerks his foot back, but the silence is already distilled, and he meets the moment with a crestfallen sigh. But his dismay goes no further, attention distracted by a quiet whine of distress that swells to meet him.

He recognizes the cry and turns toward her voice, though he cannot see her through the trees - yet her distress is loud, and stirs him toward her. "Keen," he whispers out, forehead drawn in concern, and edges closer until he can vaguely make out a huddled shape, small and insignificant beneath the towering forest - yet in his eyes, in this moment, there couldn't have been anyone more important than her.