Arrow Lake Bring along a good strong umbrella capable of handling falling animals
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All Welcome 
Sploosh! went Dragomir's paws as he hopped through a puddle outside the thicket, giggling raucously to himself with his sodden tail swaying jovially over his damp hindquarters. Sloshsloshslosh, went his legs through the water. The rain had fallen hard and fast earlier in the day and abated only recently, allowing the cubs to leave their thicket and explore as they did most every day now that they were big enough. He'd lost track of Isilmë; no doubt she was somewhere nearby, but he was too preoccupied to go looking for her just now.

He kicked a paw through the puddle, sending water splashing in an arc ahead of him. A squeal of laughter had him darting for the puddle's edge, where the ground had turned to mud. Soi! proclaimed Dragomir, who by now recognized at least five different things and could (sort of) name them, too. Soil was the first. It was a prominent word in his world; don't eat soil, balaur @Aurëwen would gently scold sometimes. His father, who was fast becoming a distant memory (he would never forget, but he was little and memories grew hazy rapidly), might say soil is for worms, not goufas. It was repeated so often in his earlier days that it was Dragomir's very first spoken word; he knew dirt more intimately than he knew most things besides his family.

Soi, soi, soi, the cub chanted, flicking his tongue out over the soggy ground to sample it.
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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“Dragomir!” The admonishment was as gentle as ever, half-chide, half-call. The silver had roused a while ago, when belea had squalled for and against a bathing to be exacted upon her; and some time during Isi’s rilesome protests, balaur had deemed fit to take to prancing in puddles — and eating dirt, as Aurëwen now found, picking her way from the thicket and over to the boy.

Surely there was no harm in a bit of dirt after all, but you couldn’t ever be too sure; once, when she was a yearling, a tenant had arrived and ailed by way of drinking from a puddle  ( infected )  and nearly succumbing to its effects. The only thing that had saved him had been endless eating, drinking, and ambling at his medic’s insistence; all this, to get it through said tenant’s system. They never did find out what had inhibited his drink, to leave him so weak and fading... but he’d left Rhaesuial as a survivor.

Aure came to a willowy halt at her child’s side, hesitantly sniffing towards him, and then at the mud which he’d sampled, and the puddle that he’d thrashed about him. A worried murmur left her, yet she was anything but furious with him.

Instead, she proceeded to wriggle her nose into the mud Dragomir’d laved at, and gave him a wry crease of eyes and tone of voice: ”You and ze earth are inseparable, ah?” Then, with an impish notch in her brow, she shoved her muzzle and chin into the mud and began to inch it deviously his way — as if on a playful prowl.
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He flinched when his name was called. Not because Aure had ever done anything to cause a negative association, but because he was used to being told off for this. He swept his tongue over his jowls hastily, clearing as much of the mud from his lips as he could before she caught him. It was no good; his chin was soaked. Nevertheless he turned around and smiled as if he had done nothing wrong at all, letting his tail swing in blissful greeting. For just that moment, the stoicism of his father shone through him like a beacon. There was no mistaking who Dragomir was the son of.

But the moment dissolved quickly when Aure dunked her muzzle down and then shuffled toward him like a gator cutting through water. Giggling, Dragomir sank into a tense lay, every muscle taut and alert, but as she drew near his composure left him. SOI! he shrieked, giggling madly as he bunny hopped forward and batted alternately with his forepaws before leaping away with a shrill eeheehee!
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She hadn’t even begun, and already her blackberry was throwing a fit; he shrieked that forbidden word  ( not truly, of course )  and pummeled towards her snout with paws. And then Drago flew from her and she snapped needle-teeth after him, the shcking of mud daubed her from chin to throat. His delighted hysterics were met with raucous, girlish giggles of her own, but Aure soon situated herself more firmly into the churned earth once more. Oh, she’d get him—

Being so small and long-limbed had its perks, like shimmying into places that those so much more hulking than her couldn’t dream of reaching; or almost going unawares as far as hunting and stralthish purposes were concerned. Like now, where she hunkered down, half-crawling and half-wriggling for her baby boy.

From throat to womb her compellingly-porcelain pelt was laden with mud; but Aure could care even less than she already did, carrying herself on small, shuffling paws while her tail smacked into the puddle behind her. Lowing, gummy growls and open-mouthed pants left her scarred lips as she squirmed towards Dragomir.

She paused, nuzzling her cheek shamelessly into the churn; a saccharine bait of Ai nomfaaa?” trilling from her. ...And when she was certain she’d snare Drago, she leapt for him prancingly with an insistent squeal of Kom op hir!” Her Trig was still clumsy on the tongue, but she was still learning— and Blodreina taught her well— and she would get this boy!—  ( maybe?— )
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Aure's stalking belly crawl awoke all sorts of primitive instincts in Dragomir's brain, hearkening back to the first of all wolves who hunted with his pack. Wolves with their bellies slung low were usually in pursuit of prey, so said this most ancient knowledge, and foolishly he did not realize that the prey was him. Drago's mimicry was immediate. He crouched in place, eyes going wide and ears quivering with anticipation above his brow. At this tender age, he couldn't contain his excitement or his energy enough to be any good at hunting. Maybe that was why cubs didn't typically get invited to join hunts. Huh.

He sprang prematurely for Aure, from the last trilling syllable of son, but she was quicker. Dragomir fell back with a shrill holler which morphed quickly into a giggled ma! as he leaped toward his mother's splayed feet and wrapped his jaws around her nearest dainty ankle. At about this time, Aure might realize that her son had sharp teeth and a strong little jaw; inhibition was slow learning for him, so he still bit harder than he meant to. He wasn't likely to do any significant damage at his age, but really it all depended on how his mother handled this play aggression. It wouldn't take much for him to secure his grip and unwittingly tear her flesh.
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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idk what this post even turned into omg


A seething, taut breath retreated between clenched fangs just as another pair wrangled the down of her ankle  ( and it looked as if her gene of Ankle Biter had, in fact, been passed to this generation. )  The ivory optio was anything but furious, and yet she knew that this behavior must be curbed before this went untended to for any longer. And since it was unintentional, and inhibition seemed to be a slower cultivation for her son, Aure wanted nothing more than to help him along.

So, loosing a whiney yip of pain — well, mock-pain, but the tell-tale sting of fangs was there — the silver arched her spine and began to move away from Drago, if only to dislodge from him  ( if her alarm hadn’t sent him scurrying already. )

Eventually, she returned by way of pressing her snout down into his dark shoulders, voice soft yet firm, ”You are my little dragon, but you must learn to be gentle, too.” Was she even doing this right? I hope I am. Aure withdrew, laved at her pinking ankle, and paused as her tongue made contact with the churned earth caking her limb... and every bit of her underside. And, we must clean up, sweetling.”

The silver would think further on how to exactly reinforce better behavior soon, but for now she coaxed Dragomir away from their messy play in favor of a burbling creek not quite far from the thicket ( one eye always kept on it for Isi’s sake. )  Aurëwen made to move into it, but hesitated; always wary with water, always would be, but it’d once occurred to her that if she ever had children, she’d be fond of teaching them how to swim.

So they do not drown, as I did. The current was drawling, slow, and she returned the present with a quick, absent inhale. Lessons would have to come later, at the very least. Follow me, my treasure,” she then crooned, using the love she had for him to step into these waters.
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His dam's pained cry did the trick; Dragomir could not sense the exaggeration in it, so he backed away immediately with the backward press of his ears and the curling of his tail. In the moment it might seem a cruel trick to play on a young boy, but this sort of lesson was necessary, lest he grow to be a creature whose fangs knew no restraint. He would not last long among his brethren if he could not temper his blows, so though he looked shocked and worried now, Aure was doing him a great favour.

He flinched away from her touch, as he was wont to do, and peered up at her as she returned to her usual soft-spoken demeanour. All forgiven then, Dragomir assumed. ji'dl, the boy repeated in a babyish slur, pausing to lick his muddy chops. But as Aure rose and began to step away, beckoning him to follow, a needy mischief rose suddenly in him and he spun the opposite way with a shrieking giggle and took off into the trees.
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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#8
lovin kudos & how that shit always turns my hearts to question marks-


Not a moment had passed when that shriek pierced through her ears, and, smiling through a wince, turned to appraise Drago. She expected that he’d been overexcited when presented with water, and that must’ve been why he cried out as he did — but no. No, not at all. Instead, he was hurtling off into the hinters, and—

Micuță! Her voice was wedged somewhere between utter betrayal and unfettered laughter, stumbling and clambering her way back up the flowery bank, Scoate-ți negrul în urmă aici! breathless and loping off after her sturdy-footed son just as the shadows of spring gobbled him up. If she was quick enough, she could find and clean him before he ran rampant all over the valley.
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He tore away from the mud puddle and threw himself into the undergrowth, giggling wildly as he ran. Aure's voice behind him was tinged with mirth, making it all the harder for a mischievous cub to take her commands seriously. So off he went, as fast as his pudgy toddler legs could carry him. He blended into the shadows and might have disappeared entirely if not for the raucous crashing of his solid body through the twigs and ferns.

And if that wasn't enough, then he could easily be tracked by his whooping repetitions of Stinker! Stinker! Black behind! Stinker!
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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Wherever the vegetation stuttered, Aure pursued, her self thrumming with that mirth  ( only making him more riled )  as well as worry. A mother’s fretting, she supposes, but a worry nonetheless. The herbalist went on, deft where her son was just as dauntless — and gregariously in plain sight with his boisterous laughter.

Eventually, though, she had to come to a slippery halt to catch her breath, muddied paws stumbling over themselves; wearied head raised and whirling this way and that; silver gaze peering through the gloom. They were safe within Diaspora’s perimeters, but they’d gone a bit too far from the thicket for her liking.

Springy ribs and heart quivering, Aure resumed her seeking at a slower pace, ears flickering at each rustle; nose crescenting to the dampened earth and fronds to try and sniff him out. But not before she gave a wary lilt of “Drago?” out into the dimming hinters.
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At some point in his mindless charge, Dragomir's hollering turned to silent giggles that shook his entire body. He hunkered down in the twigs and long grass, listening as his mother slowed down and searched for him. His breaths came in quiet puffs as he fought to control his laughter, but she would have no trouble finding him if she really wanted to.

When she called his name he erupted into high-pitched chortles and fled in another direction, crashing haphazardly through the bush until he ran directly into her, after which she finally managed to clean him off in a nearby puddle and shepherd him home.