Fairspell Meadow young blood

Berries were bursting to life in the grassy meadowland. The sweet aroma of their juice had filled the air and had been carried on the wind to the yearling wolf. For a moment, he paused to drink in that scent and to let it fill his senses.

A flash of salmon pink split the dark hairs of Henry’s muzzle. He drew his tongue across his snout and whiskers hungrily. It had been two days since he had hunted for himself, favoring the long-distance walk to the hurried frenzy of a hunt. The young Blackthorn was rooted to his place by the sickly-sweet berry smell. He chased the impulse that drew him in further, following the berry aroma deep into the meadowland.

Pausing near a spiraling creek, Henry licked up a mouthful of berries. Their flavor brought a smile to his dark leathery lips.

Mica was walking around, no intention on really going anywhere, when he stopped and noticed a wolf doing strange actions. He seemed to be eating berries by choice, and enjoying them? Mica was confused. He had only eaten berries once, and that was when a healer gave them to him, and they did not taste good. He wondered why the wolf was eating them by choice.

Approaching the other male slowly, Mica asked "you actually like those?"

Someone drew up beside Henry, startling the yearling into a jump and a nervous little chuckle that bubbled from the back of his throat. The wolf was handsomely coated in warm autumn colors. He asked if actually liked the berries that stained his white chin. At once, the young Blackthorn boy felt like he must have looked a bit silly. No sense in lying on a curious question, though.

I do. They’re sweet and some of them burst when you chew on them. Where I was born, there weren’t many berry bushes. Now, it’s like I find them all over the place, Henry answered, tail swishing warmly at his rear. He was all for sharing the bounty that was berry gobbling.

Mica narrowed his eyes, still unsure if what the young man was saying was genuine or not. "Mind if I try one?" he asked, still hesitant in fear of a bitter taste.