Dragoncrest Cliffs than the war-chariots of the lydians or

All Sobo wanted to do was sleep, but napping wasn't on the agenda for today. Instead, a rather grumpy Sobo was drawn from the den and made to march alongside his siblings and mothers. He did so with feet that dragged and jaws that creaked open every minute or so in a wide yawn.

He hardly noticed the scenery as they journeyed through the pines — this was all very familiar to Sobo by now — but the sprawling meadow, marked with a lone crimson tree, was all new to him. Much as he wanted to continue playing moody until he was put down for a nap, the boy couldn't hide the wonder that crept into his gaze as he cast it all around the meadow. Even his tread seemed to grow buoyant the further they went, until they were directly below the red canopy of that lone tree, and Sobo's sour mood was behind him.

He was less reticent than his sister when in familiar company. Mireille hid, but Sobo ventured forth to sniff at a cluster of yellow flowers. But when he abruptly took notice of the crimson wolf as red as the leaves overhead, Sobo shrank into the grass and slicked his ears shyly back with an apprehensive wiggle of his tail. It didn't matter that Avicus seemed completely disinterested; she was a stranger, and strangers made his belly fill with nervous bubbles.