Noctisardor Bypass we can feel that time is dilated

time is not something that ezra yet understands in it's complex nature, but he understands when the light yawns into the mouth of the den and when it is chased away by the dulled shadows of the night. he can understand words and kind of mimic them. in the month of his life thus far, he has become more lively. more curious.

no longer content to linger in the safety of the den.

with ears still a little floppy and full of naivety of the dangers of the world outside the den, he brazenly pokes his head outside of it — though still weary enough to not fully expose himself entirely to the early morning sun and massive world that lay outside the den — he bellows WHA DOIN'? to anyone near enough to hear him, not realizing or caring that he was probably being disruptive.

Little Kikimora, already a lover of the great world beyond the whelping den, lounged in the shade of a nearby towering tree when another child poked his nose beyond the threshold. She did not notice him at first, having occupied herself with watching the way a ladybug clung to a long stalk of Spring grass. Only when he barked into the breeze did she jerk her muzzle in his direction, startled by the sound of his voice.

She blinked, curious to see if Ezra would venture out into the daylight to explore.

though his own question had been boyish and with uncontrolled volume, it was met with quiet. not even an echo to relay back to him. tail wags and then slows, frown tugging at the edges of his lips.

he thought for some an adult would come swooping down, shushing him or answering his question or something —

his gaze catches kikimora close by and though his first step outside the arch of the den was hesitant, he toddles over to her; his closeness to her mirroring gideon's own. keekee! he crows, the nickname easy sounds for him to make. wha' do in'? apparently, it was his new favorite question.

Ezra noticed her and there came a pause in which he hovered at the den's entrance. He was not as settled out in the open as she was, it seemed, but the speckled youngster crooned a soft note of encourage to accompany the gentle sweep of her tail through grass.

When he stepped outside and toward her, hollering the nickname first bestowed upon her by her mother, Kikimora smiled brightly. Her silvery blue eyes glittered as she observed her den-mate's approach, and at his question she shifted to point her muzzle toward the little red-black beetle that travelled further along the length of a tall stalk.

Look, she said, and was sure to add: no eat. Just look.

he is clumsy as he barrels towards her, stopping when he reaches her side. luckily, he had not scared off the beetle that she'd been watching; but as he blinks from her to the direction she indicated, his gaze zeroes in on the red-black insect. he scrunches his nose, lowering his head a bit —

only to freeze when she tells him not to eat it.

bu! looks cru-chee! he loudly whispers to her, stumbling a bit over the word 'crunchy'.