Stone Circle Little one

Sven stret hed and moved away from his psrents and the rendezvous site. Little gray eyes on the horizon. He wouldn't go far. But today he was in search of grand adventures and things. He wrinkled his maw the freckles bunching and shifting.

He moved his chubby body around happily.

Astrid, as well as her brothers, grew; gone were the days of stout legs that stumble and tumble, and in came the beginnings of awkward adolescence. Even still, Astrid could not seem to lose the puppy weight that clung desperately to her with all its might. Every part of her jutted out and yet remained rotund, as if the heavyset figure of her father and the grace of her mother combined to create God's unchild heathen.
And she was fine with this, in her childish lack of sentience. Insecurity did not exist within her yet.
In fact, she was rather proud of it! Tail always high in a stiff flag, bulbous paws thump-thump-thumping as she strut her stuff about Kvarsheim's land and in hot pursuit of her dear brother who, too, wandered from the rendezvous. Hæ! she shouts, voice deep and frog-like, tongue poking from between her teeth as a devilish smile curves up her cheeks. Where're you goin'?

Much like Astrid Sven had inherited his fathers heft. Though where father was a little more muscle than fat. All of sven wiggled and jiggled.

He heard the loud noise of someone trying to stop him amd sped up until he realized it was Astrid.

He wrinkled little muzzle and stuck his own tongue between teeth 

Walking. Adventuring! I be slaying dragons!

She catches up to him just in time for her to blow a puff of meat-breath in his face, which was certainly not puppy-sweet with milk anymore. Not without me, she retorts, a grumble coming from her chest as she attempts to swing a paw for his shoulder. I'm the queen dragon slayer! her voice shifts up into a screechy whine. N' you're the dragon!
Because, of course, Astrid's word was law.
She snips her teeth in the direction of his face before she rears up and then slumps forward into a lazy bow, pudgy belly brushed up against the grass.

He blinked a lick of his lips. Gosh sister's were such a pain. Why couldn't he have had 3 brothers in the litter. Nope he had to have an Astrid.

He puffed out. Are not Asti! he screeched and play bowed.

With a move he felt smooth as butter, when in reality it was a little skewed and off. He tapped a paw at her face and snapped at her shoulder 

Grah! In defense, Astrid swats at him with a clunky paw as if he were a vicious beast and her limbs were her mighty weapons! You must die!
She lopes a good yard away from him as if she were going to make him chase her, but of course, this was not her master plan.
She pauses mid-gallop, paws digging into the dirt, before she turns abruptly on her heels and makes a mad dash right for him. Up goes her torso into the air and right over his back does she flop in a very amateur attempt at a tackle! Her teeth reach for his ears, his nape, anywhere she can put her mouth; eyes wild with fiercely knit brows, a symphony of grumbles and growls erupting from her chest.

He growled back. Batting at his sisters paws. Though she left a smarting slap to his ear.

Sven had learned to not underestimate his sister because frankly she was crazy. And he was glad he didn't follow. B3cause she turned and bolted.

She landed on him with a loud whump and he puts little teeth into her shoulder chest legs. Grappling teying to gain the upper hand.

OW! his teeth clip her shoulder, graze her foreleg; the audacity! As if she had totally not brought this upon herself!
Stupid dragon! she hisses, ears panning to the sides of her head; hackles bristled high and mighty, tail stuck outward in a flag. She, then, tugs viciously at his nape, the fluff of his cheek — and drops all the weight in her core and forelegs in a rather lazy attempt to get him to the ground. You won't win! I'm the queen!

He squealed as she dug into his shoulders, but he hunched them and bucked.

slaying dragons not be easy! he roared. It aounded more like a yelp, but he tried.

He growls. not a queen not a princess jussa sista!

He struck at her side as her weight bore him down. Shuffling to try and roll out from under her.

A swift punch to her side earns a loud groan from her, and immediately she tumbles to the grass with her legs tucked close to her stomach. That hurt! she roars, tongue flicking out and running up over her nose.
Decidedly, she was now tired of playfighting. Her tail curls around her hind as she sticks her forelegs out in front of her, jaws widening in a big yawn. Blink, blink; oh, right, her brother. Her gaze travels up to Sven, and she quirks a brow as if she had not just been trying to slay him. Naptime?

Sven's ears went to his skull. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Not really. He was only playing. I sorry I hurt you, Astii.

Astii settled then, just lay down right where they were, even crunching a little of Sven's tail. He blinked in surprise, but he didn't yelp. Instead he settled next to her with a soft nod. 

Okay naptime.

last from me <3

Is okay, Sven.
He settles beside her, and Astrid takes this time to reach outward and pull him close to her with a rake of her claws through the fur at his nape. She brings her head in, resting it between chin and chest, nose buried in the darkened ruff of his cheek.
Something takes hold of her, and perhaps it was a combination of grogginess and the vulnerability of the situation, but she parts her lips to murmur a soft: I love you.
Sleep finds her soon after as the sun beats heavy upon their backs.