Neverwinter Forest kings of the weekend

The young prince was just finishing the last of his lunch as gentle rays of sunshine crawled through the den entrance. Though he was unable to see them, he sure was able to feel them. He unlatched himself as the sun fell gently on his back, his tail tipping as joy overcame him. His belly was rounded by the meal he had just partake in, Cypress was near, his mother was near, and the sun-- to his understanding-- was also near. Only one more presence could have made this more perfect: his father. Though his father’s presence wasn’t as constant as his brother or mother’s, there was something about his father that made his lips spread into a gummy grin.

He scooted himself away from his feeding station and in the general direction of the sun’s warmth. Once the babe has found himself a spot that was to his liking he flopped himself onto his side. He stretched his tiny limbs as he laid there and suppressed a yawn. The comforts of sleep were tugging at his conscious, but, for that happy moment, he fought the urge to nap.

With the foliage replenishing itself steadily now, the herds and prey had seemed to drift back in to the Wilds. Scimitar was quick to take advantage – and one pheasant now hung loosely in his jaws, his own saliva practically pooling at the thought of the succulent morsel. But it was for Eshe – her milk would need to be bountiful to feed their two boys, and so the cinnamon wolf strode with purpose to the den site.
 
He uttered a garbled bark, his mouth full, to gain the attention of his mate before sweeping in. His eyes blinked as he adjusted to the light, and lovingly placing the meal in front of his silver mate, he nudged her, encouraging her to slip out and eat in peace if she so desire d—he would stay with the boys.
 
Tipping his muzzle down, he greeted them both with a kiss to their crown noting the distinct scent of milk still within the air, and relieved that thus far, his family had been able to be fed.

He was slowly wading into the depths of sleep, growing heavier by the moment. A noise, one that he felt the deep baritone of, rumbled through the air and woke the almost-sleeping prince. He grew attentive in his dark world as he was roused. His head lifted from his paws and his head shifted heavily to a tilt as the smell of his father whaffed into the den. He waited as his father’s scent grew stronger and stronger, and only moved once a kiss was place upon his crown. Once this was done, Rannoch tipped his head back and gurgled happily, hoping that that would attract the attention from his father again.

Cypress remained in the realm of dreams, stirring only briefly to his touch, but young Rannoch was pulled further from his slumber, and the gurgle drew his father’s ears sharply forward. Casting his eyes down to study the happy boy, Scimitar released a gentle sigh, recalling how it felt not long ago that Pasha, Whit, Swift and Allure had been this young – and even more so, his final litter with Bazi. He had not truly had a chance to bond with them though – Bazi’s jealously and temperament had kept him from the den mostly, and when she had regained her energy and fire once more, the spitfire woman had told him to leave, leaving no questions or concerns to be asked.
 
Now, looking down upon his now younger boys, he knew she had not been wrong – perhaps, even, she had found someone to tame her wild emotions as well.
 
His nose drifted down, teasing gently along the fur of Rannoch’s spine as he made to soothe the child – hoping to lure him back to sleep once more, though no words were spoken. Soon enough they would be toddling fully about, and no doubt wrecking chaos upon their parents with mischief.

The gentle brush of his father’s tongue stirred him further, urging him to stay awake. Time with his father was cherished by the young pup. He had explored the wonders of his mother’s coat many times, but the exploration of his father was rare. Seizing the moment, he squirmed his way diligently to Scimitar’s nearest foot. Once he bumped into it, he quickly latched on  and gummed vigorously, hoping to discover something new.

Rannoch was keenly awake now – rapt attention was given to the task at hand, it seemed, and as the boy wriggled, he bumped in to the large paw of the agouti Frostfur. The tasting began – drawing a small smile to the man as he studied his son, feeling the tiny gums work at his fur and skin. It was with perfect curiosity his two sons seemed to explore the world, and for a moment, Scimitar wondered what this meant for both he and Eshe come the time when their eyes fully opened and they could walk. “You’re both going to keep us on our toes, hm?” His tone was a gentle rumble, nearly a whisper in the silence of the den.

Though the child had sampled a few toes in his time, there was something distinctly different in the taste that brushed upon his pallet. He could not pinpoint what exactly it tasted of, but at a later time he would know this taste as the dirt beyond the den. Though Eshe left the den, the taste was not as strong on her as was on his father. As the taste became old, and more so off putting than enjoyable, the child unlatched from his father with a slight scowl. His tongue snaked in and out of his mouth as he attempted to rid the earthy taste from his mouth, offering a unhappy coo as he attempted to free himself from the taste he had sampled.

Awful reply.. trying to catch up!

With a scowl storming his son’s features, Scimitar released a gentle chuckle, shifting his weight as his muzzle extended down, his tongue snaking out to wash the boy along his spine and neck. For such small and inactive creatures, they required more bathing than Scimitar had recalled with his first litter—but it was likely Bazi had manipulated that time more than he had. Bits of milk clung to Rannoch’s fur, and easing it away, the father would nose the boy gently, his own muzzle placing itself down to rest beside the silver pup, wondering if they could both catch a nap.

You are totally fine. <3 Fade with your next post?

Rannoch’s unease and overall dissatisfaction disappeared as Scimitar drew his tongue over his back. Settling down at his father’s side, Rannoch drew a look of satisfaction upon his lips and curled against his father. He was then lulled to sleep, sighing heavily as he drifted from a waking state to one that was dominated by his blinded dreams.

The boy began to drift, and as the squirming stopped, Scimitar found his own pull to the world of dreams unable to resist. Never again would he sleep soundly – he had found this to be when Bazi had birthed their first litter, for every sound now stirred him – but the stolen moments of light sleep with his son pressed against him were certainly needed, and soon a gentle snore would escape the large Alpha.