Hushed Willows It's a good life, that's what I'm told

It felt as if ages had passed him by since he’d first opened his eyes, and now there came another monumental moment within his life—the discovery of speech. Sounds were easy to make, but to turn them into something more than just a nuisance was entirely different. Ever since he’d heard his first sound, he’d been attracted to them, wanting to create for himself something just as beautiful as birdsong. Always had he practiced, babbling to himself whilst attempts at replicating things he’d previously heard were made. Yet, the problem with him having decided to act like a mockingbird was that there were only certain words that he could recall—two, to be more specific. Two words that he’d latched onto, two words that he’d been practicing. One was good, whilst the other was bad, but he could no better tell the difference than a fish could walk.

Out of the den and into the open had the boy wandered, plopping down with his back to the entrance. Overhead shone the sun down upon him, warming his small frame, only for the occasional gust of wind to slip by and send a shiver running down his spine. To the trees had he muttered, “Eros,” knowing the name to be his own. What it meant, he hadn’t the slightest of clues, but he understood enough to have realized that when someone spoke it, they wanted his attention. So, in a way, he’d unknowingly introduced himself to the willows; had he known, it wouldn’t have bothered him to greatly. The trees, though incapable of speech, probably cared for him more than his own mother, and so they were deserving of being made aware of who he was. Despite how deserving they were, the boy had still gone on to say, “Bad!” which was once again directed at the drooping trees. Of course, he didn’t know what the word meant. But, who knows, maybe the trees had secretly done something that made them deserve to be shouted at by some impish child.

Stark was almost cautious as he snuck back into the Keep. His little adventure with his dark colored companion was nothing he was ashamed of but still it left many questions he didn't feel like answering at that moment. As he made his way back towards the Crook to perhaps intersect Banner or Tambourine he instead was surprised to find one of the young puppies sitting outside the den. Amara wasn't immediately visible and Stark wasn't exactly surprised by that fact but he still stopped a few paces from the puppy, laying down so that he was more comfortable and more on the child's level. 

"Hello," He said with a small smile, wondering how much the boy might know - he'd just heard him say bad but why? Was the temperature not good? Maybe he didn't like the bright sunshine. It was hard to say and he couldn't remember much of when Tam had started to put words and thoughts together. 

Tambourine was meandering through the Keep, with no particular purpose or direction in mind. He thought about finding Stark and doing a patrol with him. Honestly, though, the boy had grown terribly bored of them. They had talked about the possibility of him becoming a missionary (or something like that...) but Tambourine didn't think he was much interested in guardianship. Evidently there was a whole bunch of trades, though, and hopefully something else would strike his interest.

But he wasn't really that worried about it—surprise, surprise! He sashayed through the willows, unintentionally crossing paths with his father figure and what turned out to be a third puppy at Amara's den. Tambourine barked a greeting to both, his eyes lingering on the younger boy and widening slightly as he took in the white mask on his face. It almost looked like he'd face-planted into some white paint. Or maybe a bird had shat in his eye? The Xi could totally empathize with that.

The trees were nice to talk to, even if they hadn’t spoken back to him. He didn’t mind their silence, especially since it was the same sort of treatment that he’d grown accustomed to. Sure, Amara spoke to them every now and again, but it wasn’t as often as it probably should be—which didn’t bother him, since he viewed it as being normal. Their silence meant that he could ramble on and babble at them, using words he didn’t understand or couldn’t properly say. So, just as before, he’d opened his mouth to shout something at the willows, but it’d snapped shut as soon as he’d heard hello. Having not heard the leader approach, he was, for a solid second, convinced that one of the trees had actually talked back to him. Staring at the branches as they swayed, he’d waited to hear something else, only to realize that they definitely hadn’t said anything when the scent hit him.

Turning towards Stark, he’d tilted his head. Who was he? Not knowing, but assuming that he couldn’t be any worse than his mother, the Alpha was given his full attention (for the moment). The greeting repeated in his head, but he didn’t know what it meant. That didn’t stop him from making an attempt at repeating it, though, especially since it seemed easy—but not easy enough for him. Instead of getting the entire word out, all he’d managed to say was, “Hell.” It was close enough, at least for the imp. It also sounded a bit better than how bad had, so it wasn’t about to be dropped any time soon. As if to prove he’d taken a liking to it, he’d said, “Hellll,” once again when another stranger arrived, and then proceeded to repeat it once or twice afterwards. Looking back and forth between the both of them, he wondered if Stranger #2 knew any nice words like Stranger #1 had.

This was one of the boys. He didn't know their names - he couldn't recall if he'd ever heard Amara say their names or if he'd ever really heard her speak of the children at all. He was worried over them and how the small family was doing. As they aged it was harder and harder to consider Amara in things - once they no longer needed their mother to survive if need be the pack could, and would step in. Stark smiled up at Tambourine as he approached, reaching out to bump his snout against his boy fondly before looking back at the puppy who'd imprinted on part of his greeting. "Hello," He repeated it, smiling at him. 

"Can you remember being so small, Tam?" He asked curiously, blue eyes shifting back up to the older boy. He could remember the tiny puppy bumbling about as he learned things and it made something in his clench a bit. Maybe he'd look into finding a mate when spring came about - he wasn't against the idea of more children, ones truly of his own. 

"Hell?" Tambourine repeated teasingly. "Do you mean hell-o?" he asked, enunciating the word and offering the child a grin that was partly teasing, partly sympathetic. Not only did he look like a bird had taken a dump on his face, he couldn't manage a proper greeting either.

Stark's question made him look to the adult, blinking a few times before his cherubic face grew thoughtful. "Nnn..." he hummed, sticking his tongue in his cheek and screwing up one eyeball. "No," he finally admitted, face relaxing. "Was I? That little?" he added, looking dubiously at the nameless pup.

Being spoken to was strange, and being smiled at was even stranger. His face scrunched up, but hadn’t remained that way for very long at all. Neither one of them were his mother, so maybe that meant they were supposed to act differently from her? None of it made sense to him just yet, but someday it would. Until then, he’d decided to focus on the two new faces and what they were saying, even if he couldn’t understand the majority of their exchange. He could just continue to repeat them as best he could until it got boring, or they stopped talking.

Just as before, Eros said, “Hell,” but then added a rather blunt-sounding, “Oh,” shortly after. The two parts hadn’t been smashed together, but it was good enough for him. He tried picking out some of the other words that had been said afterwards, but hadn’t been able to repeat anything back. As soon as the words had entered one ear, they’d flown right out the other, leaving him to stare at the two with both confusion and anticipation in his eyes.

Stark offered Tambourine a smile, looking up at the boy for a moment. "Hmm, and even smaller." Although he'd met the boy once he was about a week old, maybe a little more, it wasn't until later that he was there daily, inserted into his life like he'd been meant to be there. Stark looked to the puppy again before he reached out, giving him a little nudge. "Do you know your name?' He asked curiously - hoping maybe he might have learned that much, just so he would know what to call the little boy. 

He squinted for an instant, as if trying to remember being so small. But the pup's over-enunciation, then Stark's question, distracted him. He offered the littler wolf an encouraging grin, then gazed at him expectantly, waiting to see if he knew his own name. Based on his experience with the other two as well as his lack of articulation so far, Tambourine didn't have high hopes.

Speaking of the other pair of puppies, he briefly scanned their surroundings and wondered out loud, "Where's Ch—Kavos? And the other one? And Amara?" He always seemed to run into each of them on a one-on-one basis and it was kind of weird. And here was yet another pup. "How many kids does she have anyway?" he asked Stark out of the corner of his mouth.

As the conversation between the older two continued, a pebble had captured the child’s attention. He’d watched it, half expecting it to move or something, but nothing ever happened. Huffing, Eros tilted his head upwards in order to see Stark, whose face had gotten way closer. It’d startled him, having not heard or seen him move, which he’d tried to play off (but totally didn’t). Tilting his head to the right, he stared at the man for a long minute, picking at his sentence and then settling on the word name. Did he want a name? His head leaned to the left then, wondering if that was true, and then assuming that it was. He knew his name! Amara had said it a lot, and it’d been simple enough for him to say. With a nod, he’d said, “Eros,” and then glanced towards Tam.

“Erooos,” he drawled. “Erooooooooooooos!” Whilst his first repeat had been relaxed, the latter had been carried by an attempted howl—which sounded less like a wolf, and more like a sea lion.

Before Stark could answer him, the kid began to wail. Tambourine looked at him in bewilderment, wondering what had set him off so abruptly, when he realized he wasn't crying, he was howling. The older pup's lips twitched in amusement at the realization, his one good ear pricking forward (the other remained limp). He felt his own throat rippling sympathetically, though he bit back the howl to avoid drowning out young Eros.

"Nice!" Tambourine declared when Eros was done, giving the smaller boy a clap on the back before more or less moseying away, thoughts of patrolling with Stark having fallen out of his bread head. Instead, the juvenile returned to his happy if pointless meandering about the Keep.