Neverwinter Forest i felt free

@Scimitar @Eshe @Cypress or anybody else!

It was mid-morning and despite his normal nap time, Rannoch found himself oddly awake. A light ensemble of sleep-driven breaths filled the air of the den and made it all the more difficult for him to fall asleep. He tossed and turned at his brother’s side, finding no comfort in the moment. Eventually, as he offered a reluctant sigh, he accepted that he was awake and that he was not going to nap. Now that that had been established, the matter of what he was to do with all of this free time. He noted that Scimitar was not here and though his scent was strong, it trailed out of the den entrance and beyond.

Picking himself up, Rannoch inhaled heavily to take in his father’s scent. Before he proceeded forward, he made sure that the rest of his family was sleeping. When he could confirm such-- by looking over them quickly-- the boy quickly tiptoed away from them and out of the den.

He was slapped in the face by the humid late-July air as he emerged from the densite. He had been outside in the company of his family a handful of times, but alone? Never. Hovering in the entrance, the young prince blinked in the young morning light and surveyed the area around the densite. Though his tiny paws danced in anticipation for him to bound forward, he remained in place and called out, “Dah?”. He had no idea where his father went when he was away, but he wanted to find out!

Ever attuned to his brother’s moods and machinations, Cypress roused only a moment or two later. He padded with new confidence toward the mouth of the den, his oversized paws still floppy and uncoordinated but fortified with a new sense of balance as he began to grow into them. Yawning so wide his jaws popped deliciously, Cypress shook out his soot-colored fur and slipped out into the summer humidity to stand beside the puff of dandelion fluff that was Rannoch. Pressing his cheek lovingly to his brother’s dusty shoulder, nibbling fondly at the crest of the boy’s shoulder, Cypress bent his muzzle to the earth to breathe in the good, woodsy scents he found there.

Both boys were starting, quite literally, to take shape — blunt, rounded muzzles were just beginning to elongate and taper; tiny turtle flippers were becomingly disproportionately long in comparison to the size of the boys’ torsos; and little rat tails were growing long and serpentine. Personalities, too, were beginning to emerge — Cypress beamed readily, having moved from his somber, stoic infancy into the bright sunshine of childhood, and bounded forward as a summer breeze stirred up a rattle of leaves only a few feet away. “Dah?” questioned Cypress, echoing his brother’s earlier call, mistaking the faint sound for his father’s footfalls. “Ammon, Nah!” he urged, a willing accomplice and awful instigator. “Come on, Noch!” They would surely find Scimitar — he had been right there, hadn’t he?

The soot-colored prince was quick to fall into his rightful place at Rannoch’s side. Beaming happily at his brother, he greeted him with a wagging tail and a nudge to his crown. As the formalities subsided and Cypress echoed Rannoch’s questioning, the silvery prince looked to the distance expectantly as he attempted to seek out their father. Nothing. With disappointment apparent in his baby blues, the youngest cub sighed lightly. Rannoch’s defeat and Cypress curiosity seemed to clash for a moment and soon it persuaded his spirits.

His expression went from dreary to ecstatic as he nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Cuh!” He agreed wholeheartedly, nudging his brother lightly before bouncing ahead to start the investigation. The clumsy footfalls of his growing paws brought him forward and his nose dove to the grasses below as he sampled all of the scents that they had to offer. After a moment or so of investigation, Rannoch found what he had sought: his father odar. Turning towards his brother quickly, he called to him giddily, “Cuh, cmmuh!” Come here, I’ve found something!

The world was so big — Cypress had a hard time fathoming just how large it really was. The highly coveted and wholly uncharted Outside World was completely without walls, which ought to have filled the gently-reared fledging with apprehension but had the exact opposite effect. He could not conceive a world without Eshe or Scimitar and knew with all the unquestionable reassurance of a well-loved youth that they would always be there to answer his anxious cries should he choose to utter them. Yet there was nothing but safety here with Rannoch, and with an encouraging albeit clumsy lick to his brother’s cheek, the chubby little raven bobbled along beside his dandelion fluff companion — all willing innocence and eager exploration.

Like Rannoch, Cypress shoved his nose so ardently into the foliage that he nearly sneezed; but his search came up empty just as his brother crowed giddy success. Bounding toward Noch with a rump-wriggling wag of his tail, the Neverwinter prince bowed his head and sniffed the imprint of grass that his brother had sampled mere moments before. Yes, yes! There it was! By his babyish powers of deduction, Cypress ruled out the direction he’d been searching in and the direction of the den, which left them with only two directions — forward or right. At random he chose the path to his right with a nudge toward Rannoch in a forward direction; they out to split up, he thought, despite his young age. Cypress found a few interesting looking twigs and a rather boring worm — which he immediately ate, finding it slimy yet satisfying — but his search for Scimitar’s scent came up empty. “Nah?” he questioned. Was the other puppy having any luck?

A mass majority of the world beyond their humble abode was a great mystery to Rannoch. The world, as he knew it, revolved around his family and their den. The rest of the world was but a blissful mystery to the youngest prince. Little by little the brothers had begun exploring the world beyond the den, discovering all that the world had to offer. Today the world offered them the scent trail of their father and it was their personal duty to track exactly where this trail lead. The sweet taste of victory was fresh on his mind as Cypress urged him forward. Following his brother’s lead, he pressed onwards with his nose glued to the ground.

Inhaling with every step he took, the puppy followed the smell dutifully. He only broke away from his tracking to Cypress’ call. “Cuh!” he replied, his eyes seeking  his brother as he broke away from his investigation. “Dah!” He’s this way, come on! He beckoned in the direction in which he had been toddling and continued along the trail. He was all too absorbed to realize that he was teetering dangerously close to the uncharted territories and soon, if he didn’t realize it, he would be further than he had ever been from the den.

Cypress, the incorrigible instigator, was just as absorbed in their mission — and he was the least likely wolf to advise Rannoch, “Hey. You’re, like, a tiny little baby turtle. You should probably go back home or something.” Childish optimism told the pudgy little fledging that their father was just around the corner — just a few feet away — just, just, just. He tipped his head back to regard the evergreen pines that surrounded them; they were so tall and their smell covered everything he knew. In the future, when he was old enough to explore the great, wide, world in full, the smell of evergreen would never fail to remind the midnight-furred Frostfur of home. At Rannoch’s urging, Cypress ambled to butt like a mountain goat against his brother’s flank with a playful growl — but their father’s scent pulled his attention with equal fervor.

At this age, both boys tended to share equally in leading and following — but for this particular venture, Cypress was content to let Rannoch choose the path. The dandelion fluff prince was a natural leader — perhaps moreso than Cypress, who was happy to play the role of loyal sidekick — and often knew quite decisively what he wanted to do and how he wanted to do it. The whir of nearby wings startled the milky-eyed raven, but he recovered quickly — particularly when he noticed a bright yellow butterfly flit down the path their father had supposedly taken. Nudging excitedly at Rannoch’s shoulder, Cypress squeaked out, “Nah!” Did you see that?!

The sudden flurry of wings tore the prince’s attention away from his tracking and into the nearby distance. Bristling as surprise overcame him, he quickly turned to his partner with wide eyes. “Cuh!” he exclaimed in a questioning tone, his eyes fleeing to the wooded horizon once more. What was that?! His expression seem to present in that moment as his heart slowed from the initial startle that the winged creature had caused.

Conflicted with the prospect of finding father and finding the new creature, Rannoch drew his whip-like tail over his back and perked his ears as he looked ahead. Despite his longing to see his father, he felt a personal duty to teach that creature a lesson for startling him so. He stood tall, his check puffing as he looked beyond the familiarity and into the unknown. Then, raising his head, the child let out a ragged howl, calling out a warning. for the creature that had startled them. He would not tolerate such a creature on their turf and knew that somebody had to take care of it while Dah was away. As his pitiful cry died, he turned proudly to his brother and nudged his shoulder, urging him to add his own warning.

Cypress was only too happy to join in the hunt for the Yellow-Winged Bandit. When Rannoch, too, was surprised by the assault of both sound and sight, uttering a quick exclamation and wearing a startled expression at the flutter of wings and the flash of color, Cypress felt a fiery protectiveness stir in his gut. That was his Rannoch, and to see the dandelion fluff boy so riled wrought a sense of defensive ire in the pudgy little raven. A growl, warbling and uneven, spilled from the boy’s lips even as Rannoch began a wheedling war cry — at Rannoch’s look of pride and pointed nudge, Cypress sent his own call winging through the forest — a feeble, thin-toned sound that died away in a few prolonged moments.

They couldn’t let the bandit get away, and with an anxious nudge to Rannoch’s shoulder, it was Cypress who took the lead now, bumbling on chubby, ungainly legs and oversized paws down the forest path. It smelled still of their stalwart father, which only encouraged him — wouldn’t Scimitar be proud to see his two boys taking such good care of their forest home and its inhabitants? Just ahead he thought he could still see the yellow-winged creature, although with his burgeoning eyesight, the accuracy of his assessment was anyone’s guess.

As Cypress lept into action, Rannoch fell into place at the soot sprite’s side. Not only had the butterfly trespassed but it flaunted such actions to their face! Rannoch knew that such actions were unacceptable. As they neared, he could feel himself growing more tense by the moment as he readied himself for his ferocious attack.

His legs suddenly locked once they were in leaping distance from the criminal. As he halted, he drew back his ears and puffed his chest before letting out a mass flurry of pitiful barks. To an outside that stumbled on this scene, they might feel as if Rannoch’s attempt at protecting was more adorable than terrifying. But, to the child, he was the king of the turf and protecting everything he held sacred.

The tension in Rannoch’s little body was contagious, and Cypress felt his own hackles, tousled and unkempt, lighting a wildfire down his spine. He skidded neatly to a stop beside the dandelion fluff boy, adding his voice to the raucous cacophony. The butterfly was largely untroubled by the racket and its blithe hovering seemed to taunt Rannoch even further — it dipped low on a curling breeze, remaining just barely out of reach, and alighted upon the trunk of a tree several annoying feet above the grayscale cub. At once, Cypress crouched and leapt, his paws scrabbling and loosing several chunks of tree bark — but he couldn’t reach the butterfly and it seemed utterly oblivious to his rage. Turning his head to Rannoch with childish desperation, he stomped a tiny paw. “Nah!” he wheedled, accompanied by some babyish babble — most likely a dissertation on the cruelty of butterflies. Perhaps if Cypress couldn’t get it, his brother could.

The butterfly hovered just beyond reach, performing enticing acrobatics as it taunted the young children. Rannoch watched silently, his eyes trained to it’s unfamiliar form. Though he was unsure of just how they would bring down their mighty foe, he knew that they had to do it. As it landed, he turned to Cypress’ leaping. Holding his breath, he watched in silent awe as his soot-covered sibling just missed the butterfly by a margin. He bounced out of the way as bark fell to the ground, the hair along his haunches ruffling as the disaster ensued.

Not only had the butterfly teased, it was now causing destruction to their home. Driving himself to a standing position, the boy steadied himself with his large paws against the ragged tree. His muzzle tipped back as his barking intensified as he looked to their ultimate foe. Yapping up a storm, the child attempted to set the score on who really was in charge in the situation.

Nursing his scraped paws, Cypress watched as Rannoch propped himself against the tree trunk and began a new litany of promised violence should the yellow-winged fiend not heed his words. The pudgy little raven hadn’t taken any lasting damage from scrabbling at the bark, but his paws had yet to develop the callous of a larger, more experienced wolf and the sensation of pain was new to him. It brought a scowl to his lips and a furrow to his brow — it made him frustrated and impatient. Growling, his voice dipping just a little bit but generally keeping to the high, sweet treble befitting his youth, he scraped his back paws and front paws into the loam and pine needles like an angry baby Triceratops and bounded forward to mimic his brother’s pose. Propping his oversized forepaws against the trunk of the tree, he barked and howled his fury at the infuriating insect for its insolence.

Though the boys were often in-sync with their emotions, this was the one occasion that the  he was blissfully unaware to what his brother was going through. He was resilient in his barking, his ragged tones growing stronger with every moment that the butterfly lingered. He shimmied over as he allowed more room for his brother. But as the two settled into their rhythm another unwanted individual floated from the treetops. This butterfly, unlike the other, was a brilliant shade of chartreuse. Rannoch, however, paid no mind to the being loveliness. Bewildered by such, the boy turned to his brother with wide eyes and a frown. What were they to do now?!

Oh, for — there were two of them now?

Cypress’ ears fanned out to the sides of his head like the wings of an airplane in an eloquent expression of pained disgruntlement. His throat was sore from barking, his paws were sore from battering the tree trunk, and now there were two winged bandits. “Dah!” he cried out desperately, his voice cracking in the middle with the force of his emotion. It was simply too much — he couldn’t even — and at this point, the pudgy little fledging felt that the best option was to flee the scene and find their father. Would Noch agree? Putting his button nose to the upturned mess of moss and pine needles, Cypress snuffed around — he was so intent upon his tracking that he bumped into the very tree they were trying to defend. Backing away, he cast a bitter glare at the butterflies — he was sure it was their fault somehow — and threw back his head again, bleating like a sad little goat: “Dah! Dah?”

He waited in silence for his counterpart’s reply, a frown falling onto his inky lips as desperation took over the other pup. His attention jumped from the bystanders to his brother. As his brother dismounted, Rannoch remained pressed against the tree and threw a nasty look upwards. This wasn’t right. They were supposed to be the victorious ones, not these pests! Dismounting with a sigh, Rannoch padded to his brother’s side with a sense of defeat hanging over him like a dark raincloud. Though he wasn’t feeling as bad as Cypress, he knew that father could make everything for them better.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” came his pitiful cry as he stood before his brother, his eyes softening as his call cried. He hoped that Scimitar was near so that he could fix everything.

Moods, at this tender age, were meant for shifting. In a berserker-like manner — one that perhaps augured what would one day be Cypress’ kneejerk reaction to pain — the pudgy little raven tossed aside his vulnerability for a hefty dose of crankiness. Stubbornly he buttoned his lips over his own plaintive cries, roughly butting his shoulder against Rannoch’s to encourage the dandelion fluff boy to do the same. These foes would not hear them calling for their father — Cypress and Rannoch were Frostfurs, princes of this forest and warriors besides. Casting his gaze about the clearing, he came across a tall, spindly fallen branch. He could sweep the butterflies off the trunk with it, he thought, but when he clenched the thing between his jaws he simply wasn’t strong enough to heft it into a vertical position. “Nah!” he cried out, a fierce expression of promised malice for the winged bandits crossing his shadowed visage. “Hemmy, hemmy!” Noch! Help me, help me! Surely the two of them working in tandem could rid Neverwinter Forest of these pests.

Seeing the shift in his brother brought a momentary sense of peace to the child’s mind. Despite the war that raged in their front yard, for a moment, he felt at peace with the situation. When his brother went to retrieve what could potentially help them win this battle, Rannoch galloped urgently to his brother’s side, his head bobbing in agreement as he fell into position. Without another word, the youngest of the duo took charge and grasped the branch between his teeth and began to attempt to drag it towards the tree. They would get these trespassers if it was the last thing they did!

With Rannoch’s help, Cypress managed to drag the fallen branch closer to the trunk — but getting it into a vertical position that would scrape the transgressors from their tree was another issue entirely. He turned defiant eyes toward the yellow- and chartreuse-winged trespassers, then looked at Noch with complete confusion. “How?” he chirped, not at all sure how to go about tipping the branch upright. He pushed at it with his nose and paws, but it simply lay flat on the ground — and tugging at it with his teeth only seemed to push it into a different location while remaining in its prone state. Unseen by the Frostfur boys, the butterflies began to flutter their wings in readiness to take flight, the unrest below becoming known to them for the first time. In time, the insects would fly away on their own — but hopefully, they would do so at a moment that made Cypress and Rannoch feel victorious!

Once their first task in the removal of the butterflies had been a success. But as Cypress’ question was asked, Rannoch paused and attempting to come up with some sort of solution. Coming up with nothing, he watched on as Cypress prodded at it and attempted to work out the answer they needed. Stepping towards it cautiously, Rannoch extended a careful paw to that he could also poke at it, hoping that they would work something out. When that did very little, Rannoch then removed his paw from the situation and lowered his head to nudge at it, hoping that it would move as he did so. When that failed to work, he looked to his brother with worry in his eyes. “Wat do?” He asked as the gears in his mind attempted to grind out some sort of solution. His attention then turned towards to tree to the culprits at the core of this problem.

“No!” he screeched suddenly and barks followed his displeased statement. “No, no, NO!” He hoped that this would help them get the point that they were unwanted. His fur fluffed as he looked to them with stiff legs and threw his head back as he continued to let out a flurry of unhappy barks.

Rannoch burst into a blustering, screeching rage — and Cypress, annoyed as much by the noise as he was by the butterflies themselves, furrowed his brow with a stony scowl. They had to rid the forest of these winged interlopers; a vague sense of duty swelled within the princes’ breasts. It was impossible, though, to think when one’s brother was barking up a storm. “Nah,” Cypress moaned, flopping down into a sad puddle of puppy as he covered his head and ears with his oversized paws. “Ky-yuh pea!” he yapped, striving for politeness. “Quiet please!” It was a term that Eshe used whenever Rannoch and Cypress used their sleeping father as a mountain and crowed victory atop his rhythmically rising and falling flank. Eshe never spoke sharply to the boys, and it was for this reason that Cypress entreated his brother instead of scolding him outright. Lest Rannoch become offended by Cypress’ request, though, the pudgy little raven approached his dandelion fluff brother and lightly butted his nose against the younger boy’s shoulder. “Awuffoo!” “I love you!”

Another idea came to the scheming raven, and he excitedly turned to Rannoch. “Nah!” he squeaked out, and rushed to the trunk of the tree. Spreading his legs like a little black sawhorse, he braced his shoulder against the truck as though peering around the side of it. Pressing his cheek and the side of his neck against the gnarled truck, he cried out, “Nah, ommy, ommy! Ge’ommy! Moun’in!” “Noch, on me, on me! Get on me! Mountain!” Perhaps if Noch could get on top of Cypress’ back, the dandelion fluff puppy could leap high enough to scatter the creatures away.

His bellowing was counteracted with pleas and as Cypress spoke Rannoch fell silent and turned towards his brother, only to find a sad puddle of puppy at his side. A heavy frown fell upon his lips as he listened quietly for what his brother had to say. Cypress was always the more proper of the two boys; ambition and his own selfish needs often got in Rannoch’s way. His ears fell back at his brothers words and only propped up once Cypress reassured him of his brotherly love. His face melted into a smile and he replied with a soft-spoken, “Awwuv.” He loved his brother more than anything and would never want to hurt him.

The heart-felt moment shifted into a moment of brilliance as Cypress came up with another idea. Mulling it over in his mind briefly, Rannoch thought about it and decided that it was the best thing that any of them had brought to the table thus far. He jumped into action after his brother, his tail whipping as the patrol lept into pursuit. Once he got behind his brother, the boy reached up to his brother’s shoulder and attempted to pick himself onto his brother’s back. He was already noticeably bigger than his brother, so this was proving difficult. Regardless of this, the prince attempted to scrape his way up Cypress’ back, realizing eventually that he was more of a bottom than a top in this situation.

Okay, so this idea was not one of Cypress’ best.

Squeaking as Rannoch attempted to climb atop him, Cypress discovered rather quickly that the dandelion fluff boy’s heavier muscle and bone structure made a big difference in weight. “Oof!” grunted the raven, craning his neck to look up at his brother with a comically woeful expression. “Nah so big’n s-swong!” he appraised with a giggle, using their mother’s phrase. The second Neverwinter prince was already so big and strong, in Cypress’ opinion, that he might be exempt from naptime. His brow furrowed as he thought of Rannoch’s size in comparison to their burly father, though, and he sighed relief — it would be quite some time before the grayscale cub could skip naptime, which meant that Cypress wouldn’t have to worry about being alone. Alone was a terrifying thing, and the mere thought of it bade him to scoot out from under his brother to catch him in a grappling hug. His arms spread as he sought to wrap them around his brother’s neck and shoulders, and such an embrace would only prompt him to nose and chew at the fur of Rannoch’s shoulder if he was successful.

At Cypress’ compliment, the child looked away as the skin underneath his fur flushed. Him? Big and strong? He sure hoped so! He wanted nothing more than to be just like their Paw and felt that those were often the words associated with him. Hi check puffed as he looked back to Cypress with a grin. “Cypws tuff,” he decided in that moment with a nod. Yes, his brother was quite tough! He remained still as his dark-furred sibling embraced him and he leaned into his brother. “Wuvu Cypws.”

The first compliment Cypress had ever given yielded fascinating results. Rannoch’s pride was a warm and precious thing to behold, and the glow within the little raven’s chest nearly tickled with glee. He enjoyed making his brother happy — it was why he sometimes good-naturedly gave in to playing with the dandelion fluff boy even when he wanted to sleep. This was Good Manners, he thought, carefully digesting every new lesson as was his wont. Yet he had merely spoken the truth! Rannoch was big and strong, and it was likely he would be a better mountain than Cypress in this particular situation. Speaking of which, “Nah wan moun’in?” he questioned politely, propping his paws up on the tree trunk to emphasize his point as he peered at the butterflies who lingered still, to the Neverwinter princes’ great offense. Did Noch want to be the stepladder where Cypress had failed?

As the position was offered Rannoch took no time to accept it. “Noch wan m’tain,” he confirmed, his chest puffing as pride overcame him. He would not let his brother down. Without wasting another moment the child propped himself against the ragged bark and steadied himself, anticipating what was about to occur. After a moment of adjusting Rannoch looked over to Cypress and beckoned him with a jerk of his head. “Cy, m’tain!”