Neverwinter Forest darling dears o'mine

Her sons were growing up so absurdly fast, she could hardly believe it! She stared at them adoringly now as they snoozed, her own eyes as large as saucers as she did. They were speaking a little, now, and their baby blues had opened; each feat she had marveled as though what they had done was a tale spun by the Greeks. Truly, her sons were the very demigods spoken of in those stories; her mate, of course, a god, and that girl who had brought them here? Well, she, of course, was a witch and a goddess both -- a mixture of Circe and Aphrodite, if ever there was one! Eshe had heard the stories in passing by a traveling man, and they had returned to her in a dream.

Don't grow up too fast... she whispered to them, her eyes soft and sweet. She herself closed her eyes to nap with them...

The last tendrils of his unconsciousness were slipping away as Eshe herself slipped into the warm embrace of sleep. As her words rolled kindly onto his ears he was brought back into the world of consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly as he woke, allowing the light of the den to touch his sensitive eyes gradually. Once his eyes were open and he was more aware of his surroundings, the boy lifted his head so that he could get a better look at what was going on in the den. A simple survey of his surroundings found both his brother and mother fast asleep at his side. Frowning at this fact, the youngest prince pushed himself to his paws and bowed into a downward dog position.

He plotted just how he could wake his mother and brother as he stretched, his head reaching over his shoulder so that he could keep an eye on the both of them. He wanted nothing more than to go out and play with them both, but that could not happen if they were asleep! Once he concluded his stretching, the boy promptly padded so that he stood before his mother. “Mahm,” He hissed, drawing a cubby paw to prod at her cheek. “Maaaaaaahm-- osside!”

That was the thing about puppies. When you wanted them to sleep, they began yapping a mile a minute and whipping around the den like tiny, fluffy bumper cars. The sound of Eshe’s voice was an electric, exciting thing that roused Cypress immediately from slumber — it was the promise of adventure and food and cuddles and bathing, which he was rather fond of. It was echoed by an imperious demand from the dandelion fluff boy, and that only furthered Cypress’ desire to rise. There was no gradient from slumber into awareness for the pudgy little raven, whose eyes flew immediately open, blinking and squinting in the light — he bounded to his feet, but his paws tangled under him before he could get a good grip on his coordination and he fell into the plush comfort of his mother’s abdomen face first. Cypress’ first instinct was to nurse, for although he and Rannoch were regularly eating meat now, they would still draw sustenance from their mother’s milk for some weeks yet — and the familiarity of it gave him comfort.

A soft, kittenish, “brrrt!” of a purr tangled from his mouth like the scratch of a record when he remembered Rannoch’s request. “Outside” sounded like a fine idea indeed, and so Cypress withdrew from his mother’s flank with a bead of creamy fluid dotting his pert little chin. “I’m with him,” his actions stated clearly as he drew near to his brother and fixed his sainted mother with a mutinous expression. “Iss,” he said somberly, his brow furrowing in a manner that had become typical for him. “Osside, peas.” He was trying to be serious — negotiation of any kind seemed to require a serious face, as he knew from watching his father — but he couldn’t help the parting of his tapering jaws into a sunny smile as his tail eagerly lashed the air. A plaintive whine fluttered from his lips. “Mama,” he said, propping himself up beside Rannoch to place a kiss upon his mother’s nose, “Noch’n me osside peas?”

She withheld a groan when she heard them stirring. Maybe I misheard. Maybe they're just getting comfortable. Sometimes I do that. More movement still had her maternal instincts shifting within her. If she peeked at them, and they were looking at her, that was a guaranteed wake-up call. Should she look... quickly? No, no need. She'd just been staring at her boys the past thirty minutes--there was no cause to fret...

More shifting. Eshe negotiated five more minutes for herself--but as she heard her son speak, she knew that only a minute had passed. No nap time, today. She peeled her eyes open and looked to her boys that had just been dreaming so pleasantly... she watched Rannoch prod at her cheek, and then saw Cypress come over and rouse her with a kiss and a polite demand.

We sure can, if you invite your mama along, she drawled with an eyebrow wiggle, and then, peering toward the youngest, she tilted her head. Also, Rannoch must say please, for she so loved how Cypress did that! She would raise both her boys to be southern gentlemen, darnit!

Success! He was pleased as pie as his mother’s tired eyes peeled open. As she woke, Rannoch took a step backwards and wagged his tail happily, anticipating just how his mother responded. His hopes soared high as Eshe said that she needed an invitation and to that he nodded eagerly. Yes! They could do that! But to what she said next caused his hope to plummet. As she rested her eyes on him, the child grew hot under his coat and his eyes fell to the ground. Of course! He forgot the ever-elusive please! That is why they weren’t already outside!

“Mamee,” he replied, bashfully looking up to her with wide eyes. “I sawre,” his head dropped with his tone as embarrassment overcame him. They had been told many times to add please, but the hopes of going outside had been the priority! Surely she would understand?! He paused for a moment as he shifted his gaze from Eshe to Cypress bashfully before returning his attention to his mother. “Mamee,” he began, offering a smile. “Can go osside, peas? Come wiff?” He paused for a moment before adding adding another “Peasee?” just for good measure. He always wanted to make Eshe proud, regardless of whatever lengths he had to go through to do so.

Omg why are you guys so adorable.. Don't mind daddy Scim, he's just waiting outside. :)

There was rustling in the den – the dark agouti wolf had hoped he would come upon silence and would be able to slip within the den beside them, curling up beside his family for a quick nap, as his eyelids hadn’t felt so heavy in so long. But it would not be so – his ears would flicker forward as he rounded closer outside the den, hearing the gentle voice of his mate, and the more pitched voices of the boys – outside, please.
 
He snorted in amusement, sitting upon his haunches as he waited to see how this would play out – each day Rannoch and Cypress seemed more and more eager for the exploration of the forest.

“Mama,” Cypress entreated in his serious way, echoing Rannoch’s ardent plea, “come wiff osside peas.” Was that correct? His little brow furrowed as he questioned thoughtfully, “How do ivvite?” Was invite the same as ask? Or was there a certain way one had to go about it? The raven prince turned a quick circle in excitement, his shadowy paws more deft now than they had been a mere week ago. Scimitar’s snort of amusement from just outside the den spurred Cypress’ enthusiasm to fever pitch — he inched toward the mouth of the den, unable to stop himself, although the effort was visible in the way his misty eyes darted between the outside world and Eshe’s face. “Mama,” he wheedled, trying to bribe her. “Papa osside.” If Scimitar was outside, wasn’t that exactly where Eshe wanted to be? Cypress hadn’t fully settled on a paternal term of endearment — Eshe described Scimitar as “papa”, “paw”, and “the best dang daddy there is” by turns — and the little raven had at first been confused between them. Now, though, he swapped between them just as readily.

Someday, perhaps Cypress would learn to embody the chivalrous mannerisms of a well-reared southern gentleman — but that day was not today. Rather than allowing his mother to exit the den first, dutifully trailing her, he inched toward the den mouth again — not quite disobeying, but shifting his gangly body as though fitting himself to a runner’s block as he made ready to bolt out into the sunshine.

Eshe smiled at her young little Rannoch as he amended his error without tantrum. Her perfect sons, indeed! Cypress, too--though his moment of confusion caused her to speak swiftly, lest he forget he had asked anything at all: To in-vite is like asking someone to join you. Politely is the best way to do it--to be polite is to use, and mind, your manners. She nodded at that; already she'd taught them about please and thank-you among other polite courtesies.

She caught a whiff of her mate before Cypress had, and her eyes turned toward the outside. Indeed, the world seemed far more appealing now, even more-so than a nap... She got very quiet, and grinned to her boys as she whispered: What do you say we surprise your paw? You must be veeeryyy quiet... and then, on the count of three, we can pounce him. Her tail waved impishly behind her, wondering if papa bear could hear--and if not, then he was in for a genuine surprise! If so, she was thrilled to see his theatrics. She expected a phenomenal performance, though really most anything he did was phenomenal.

He held onto every word that his mother spoke, taking in her lessons with wide eyes. They had been given their first few lessons on being polite and it would seem that they would be given more as time went on. Nodding happily at her words, as if to silently agree with what she had taught, the youngest prince replied with a happy, “Yes Momma, Nook ‘n Cypwiss invaite!” He would do better next time!

He was the last to catch the smell of their father and for a moment he turned his eyes to the front of their home, grinning widely as he caught sight of Scimitar. His tail wagged as thoughts of what he and his father could do now that he was home, but it seemed as if Eshe had plans of her own for them. He returned his attention to his mother as she schemed up a plan for the trio and to this idea, Rannoch jumped to his paws to show her that he was ready. His tail had previously been calming waving, like a flag in the warm summer breeze, but this plot drove his tail to go into overdrive.

“Pownce?!” he whispered giddily, drawing forward his forelimbs to set himself into a play-position. “Lessa do it!!” It was her best plan to date.

The gangly fledgling honed in immediately when his mother provided an answer to his question. “In-vite,” he repeated softly, abandoning his near foray into disobedience to nestle close to her, his cheek rubbing lovingly against her shoulder. “Mama!” he chirped, simply for the joy of it, turning his attention to Rannoch as the dandelion fluff boy’s excitement proved infectious. “Mama, me’n Noch polite,” he informed her proudly, casting a sidelong glance at his littermate. If Eshe wished it, they would be the politest dang boys on this side of the Totoka!

When Eshe lowered her tone, whispering softly to her boys, Cypress did his best to mimic her indoor voice; the best way he could figure to do so was to lower his body in a physical manifestation of that effort. He crouched down, tail tucking between his legs, his misty blue eyes as wide as saucers; his gangly body wriggled with readiness as his muzzle formed a soft “o” of wonder at Eshe’s genius. “Pounce,” he hissed in an audible, poorly executed whisper, drawing the syllables out slowly. Cypress hadn’t exactly learned the finer aspects of controlling his volume yet; whispering took great concentration that involved a. making his body as flat as a rug, b. talking as though his audience didn’t understand the common tongue, and c. adopting a strange hissing tone. “Iss, pounce on Paw!”

He could hear their voices, lifting and falling as they conversed. He could hear the pleas of his children, but the words were muffled, and with a crooked grin, the male bent himself down lower, awaiting for the eruption that he was sure would come from the den soon – the boys were keen on exploring outside, and were always quick to request a visit past the den from either willing parent when given a chance.
 
Little did he know their full plans – but luckily, the large wolf was eagerly awaiting a session of play and mischief.

Eshe's tail waved jovially behind her as her sons commented on their politeness. Yes, you sure are now that you invited your mama! Always be sure to use your manners--say your 'please and thank-yous'!

Both boys were at the ready quite quick, and she grinned at their eagerness. They wouldn't have long until Scimitar investigated the scene, but she was no great spy or sneak except for hunting. This was good (enough) practice for the boys who wouldn't be joining the hunt for some time yet.

Alrighty boys, on the count of three, we'll pounce 'im! She let this sink in, grinning widely. One... two... and there was his snout, coming in for the check-up, and Eshe whisper-yelled, three! Sickem boys! Eshe cackled playfully, her eyes upon the scene about to play out.

Alright, so it was on the count of three. Croushing down, the younger prince looked towards the mouth of the den and awaited his mother’s say otherwise. As Eshe counted down, Rannoch’s rear wriggled in anticipation and his heart thudded in his throat-- he was ready to take on their Paw! One…. Two… THREE! The countdown seemed to both fly by and take all the time in the world-- if that was even possible! But, as that last fateful word was said, Rannoch launched into action.

Heavy paws drove him closer to his father and in the pursuit of it all he let forth some yips in excitement. I’m going to get ya, Paw! Busting quickly out of the den the child flung himself into the direction of his father’s forelegs, hoping that to land this pounce effortlessly.

Like his dandelion fluff brother, Cypress wriggled his pert posterior with inextinguishable excitement. A sense of competition had begun to rear its head whenever he and Rannoch set out to do some task together; it was a strange, tense feeling that had the boy glancing sidelong at his littermate with vivid intensity. They were at the age where decipherable comparisons were beginning to be drawn between the boys; although they would always be evenly matched in terms of height, Rannoch’s bigger boned structure and heavier ropes of muscle promised a bearlike bulk that Cypress lacked. Noch would be a brawler like his similarly-patterned father, but the raven — although possessing the same abundance of grit, muscle, and temper — would bear the leaner muscle of their sainted mother.

Cypress waited, the flicker of hackles even more prominent across his shoulders and nape, crouched like a waiting carrion crow as he counted down with his mother — “one…two…”

— “three!”

Both boys’ paws burst into a flurry of motion, but Cypress was concentrating far too hard to loose his usual warcry; it was fortunate the mouth of the den was wider than the combined width of both Neverwinter princes, for they were evenly matched as they shot forward and simultaneously flew toward their waiting father. Now Cypress grinned, the wicked, no good, gap-toothed smile of a child being permitted amnesty for a delicious bit of mischief. He gathered himself and leapt, his gangly limbs aiming for his father’s hindquarters.

He was braced, his muzzle tilted in the direction of the den, though the whispering was only something he could hear, rather than determine the words spoken. Of course, he could not miss Eshe’s bellow of ‘sickem boys!’ but despite their small legs and tiny paws, the boys moved with a surprise speed of enthusiasm toward their target: him.
 
The balls of fluff shot out of the den, and just as Rannoch knocked to his forelimbs, Cypress pounced to his hindquarters. Not one to withhold a good lesson, or even the fun of the moment, the dark agouti wolf fell back as if pushed by two great warriors, a grin pressing to his lips before he uttered a “Whoa!”
 
And then he promptly fell backward to his side, like a fallen tree, shutting his eyes and pretending to be completely knocked out cold.

Eshe exited the den with them to watch, and her tail waved at Scimitar's very good show. So good, in fact, that she moved over to his face and sniffed it to check his vitals. She then kissed his brow inconspicuously, so that their boys need not yell out an eewwww groth! before lifting her head and staring at her two boys. Well, you boys did it--you knocked him out cold! Come check, she encouraged, before taking a step back and allowing them to inspect their handiwork. I think if you cover him in a billion kisses, that might help him wake up, her tail waved, Mama can help if you'd like. She thrilled over her family activity, now at her beloveds expense... but she couldn't think that Scimitar despised the idea of his sons plain adoration, or her own, much at all.

Their father fell quickly under their attack. It was as Scimitar landed that the boy unlatched and back-peddled a step or so, as if to get a better look at the damage that had been done. Pride swelled through his being as he looked upon his father, offering a nudge to his raven-haired brother in that moment as if to say, “look what we did!” As his attention shifted back as Eshe was placing a kiss upon their father’s brow.

He felt ill instantly, turning away and ushering a disgusted, “EW”. Once Eshe spoke to him, he looked from his mother to his father and nodding, knowing what had to be done next. He rushing eagerly to his father, placing kisses upon the top oh his nose in an attempt to wake him up.

“Whoa! cried the Frostfur patriarch, his massive frame toppling heavily to the earth with a ponderous whump! — it happened so suddenly that Cypress startled visibly, his misty blue eyes flying wide as his fur spiked out to all sides like an agitated porcupine. The tenuous grip of skin and fur he’d clasped harmlessly between his puppy jaws was immediately lost as the corners of his mouth drew anxiously forward and his small paws pedaled skittishly backward. He was accustomed to playing with his father, but normally in those scenarios Scimitar was a mentor and a teacher, steady and strong and undefeatable. Guiltily Cypress turned a furtive glance upon Eshe — but she seemed pleased by this odd turn of events. For added reassurance the raven fledgling turned to Rannoch, whose broad chest was puffed with pride. Tentatively at first, Cypress’ tail began to wag, gaining force and momentum as his moment of fear abated. Of course it was a game — Scimitar was invincible.

Irritation flickered — Cypress’ reaction to pain or fear tended to manifest itself in frustration or anger — but melted away as he warmed to the game. Alongside his brother and mother, he showered his father in exuberant puppy kisses, his rump wriggling with such enthusiasm that he quite knocked himself off his own feet.

Of course his wife would leave such an invitation out, and as she coaxed the boys to kiss their father awake, it took only a sloppy kiss of her own, a loud ew, and then two growing boys plowing over him, offering their own wet kisses.
 
He laughed then, unable to keep the façade any longer, and blinking his eyes open, he beamed at both – before sniping a half-assed gentle bite in their direction in play. His tail swept across the ground, and pushing himself to an upright position, the cinnamon wolf remained sprawled out upon the ground, though he cast a beaming gaze to both his boys. “What strong warriors we have, Eshe,” he noted with a quiet rumble.