Whitebark Stream We always say, later, for the later

Unlike his brother, Kiyoshi scrambled to his steadying paws the moment he registered his mother's touch. Sunlight melted through the hole to the outerworld, and the little warrior stayed his warm and curious eyes on his mother. Departing, again, to where his own paws had never wandered -- if only because his mother had bade him no.

Today was different, and bright excitement (and mild confusion) stirred Kiyoshi when mother beckoned them to follow. He knew, not because he fully understood every syllable she offered -- though he was getting better at language retention, despite his continued babbling -- but because of how she paused, and waited, and so, welcomed them. And all instinct encouraged him to follow.

Kiyoshi bounced past his brother and sought to nose him on the way, with a bright, "C'mmo Toe!" resounding for his brother to follow. The little warrior himself was well on his way, quite done with sleeping; he raced toward mother without breaking stride, scurried around her legs, and tumbled out into the wide, waking world he had only ever seen from the dark underground.