Blacktail Deer Plateau tim burton's buttons

today, Casmir was crowing loudly in the confines of the den. Already he had worried his mother and father with continued forays toward the mouth of his shelter; slow and unsteady though he was, these things did not stop him from attempting to escape. having been teased by Eilidh and trampled by Constantine, the young of the twins, though still the slightest bit weakened by his previous sickness, hollered unashamedly his displeasure at being disallowed the chance to explore outside Home.

Home had become boring.

BEBE!

Val's interest surrounding the newborns was practically untraceable. Sure, he had gathered a few toys and nick-knacks to bring Taltos and Blue, but the juvenile could hardly be bothered with frequent visits. He was much too engrossed with Pura and his lessons to mind the den. After all, he was a teenage boy -- children were the last thing on his mind.

This didn't necessarily mean he didn't care for them -- on the contrary. Each day the youth became more cognizant of his niche within the Plateau. He had already managed to intercept a few wolves at the border. The art of defense made all the difference, even for such a paltry teen like himself, and to see Taltos so vicious and feral was a blatant indicator of its importance. Slowly, Val became more mindful that the little ones needed protecting.

His mind ruminated on these thoughts as he casually passed the burrow on the way to find Pura... but something was different. A tiny voice bayed openly from the darkness. Was something wrong? Valtýr shifted nervously. Was he even allowed to be this near? His pointed muzzle tasted the wind... neither Blue or Taltos were close. Concerned and alone, Val sunk low to his belly and scuttled towards the Mayfair foyer, poking his long face in to see what was amiss.

Valtyr's face was a welcome respite from the uncommon boringness of the den. Casmir bounded (or would have, if his legs had worked like that) toward the unknown man, bristling somewhat as instinct told him this was a stranger. But, like the milk-giver and his dark papa, this one had the collective scent upon him, the fragrance the little one would one day associate with the wolves of the plateau.

"WHAZZAT?" he bellowed boisterously, lifting a minuscule paw to pat Valtyr's nose awkwardly.