Blacktail Deer Plateau sink into you

For @Constantine. Though he's welcome to bring an escort. ;)

It had been some time since Spyridon had left Ankyra Sound. With all the havoc Caiaphas had caused, Spyro had been unsure if leaving was the best idea. He did not question her authority, nor her decisions, but his place was at the sound, getting Aella back on her feet and guarding the borders. He was no offensive front, nor would he ever be. In Hippo Tang Cove, he had been trained to protect, not to rile the locals. His grandmother, Keto, had learned long ago that doing as much was a quick route to disorganization, and so she had instilled the knowledge in her pack.

Spyro had been tracking a herd of deer, and they had escorted him to the border of some other pack. Knowing he did not want to overstep their boundary, he lingered back, watching with disappointment as the herd continued on. The last thing he wished to do was upset a neighboring pack by hunting on their grounds. The Epivitoras sighed, hoping he would be able to find something on the way back home.

The daily grind was routine, monotonous, normal, and he hated it. The flick of his mother's tongue that used to comfort his sightless, soundless body now merely kept him away from more important things. Things like exploring, learning, absorbing, being. So it was that he escaped as soon and as often as he could from the careful watch of his loving parents.

He bounded this time away from a napping bundle of family toward the borders, his glee high in his chest as he made his way. Especially when he spotted the deer herd making its way over the border and into his land. The boy moved near to a tree and flattened his ears, nose wiggling as he took in their mass of scents and stared. They were big. Very big. They smelled tasty.

He saw someone just on the other side of the borders and moved slowly around the deer toward the stranger. Unfamiliar with fear, he looked to the adult and then back to the deer. "Catch'um?" he asked with ears raised and his head tipping more to the right. Why was the adult not trying to get them to eat them? Wasn't that what adults did?

A small, young fellow approached Spyridon. He could not have been older than two turns of the moon, and the Epivitoras studied him with curiosity. Spyro searched the landscape for some sign of a guardian, but none was to be found. Was this why Ankyra Sound had been able to steal all their children? Because they were so easily found wandering alone? Fortunately for the spawn in front of him, Spyridon had not been instructed to scout out young blood. In the coming months, the sound would bring to life its own sprites and spawn. They would not need the sullied blood of others.

The child spoke a single, questioning word, canting his head toward the herd that had disappeared into his own land. The language barrier prevented Spyridon from knowing exactly what the spawn was saying, so the Epivitoras merely shrugged his shoulders and pulled back one side of his lips in a puzzled manner, indicating that he hadn't a clue what was said.

The boy was naive and unfamiliar with fear.  His life had been in a cocoon of happiness, warmth and safety that betrayed none of the harsh truths the world would someday present to him.  So it was that he escaped without fail from his watchers and minders to places he shouldn't have gone.  This did indeed present an ample opportunity for the faithful of the Sound to take him if they wanted, but doubtless Lasher and Blue Willow were near enough to hear his cries.  A wolf burdened by carrying a pup would be slower than fierce parents headed to save their son.

The boy wasn't sure why the other wolf didn't answer, though he flicked his ears lightly and a flash of instinctive trepidation ran up his young spine at the curl of the other male's lip.  Though it might be a questioning gesture, to him the reveal of teeth was a bit of a threat.  Instinct existed where experience didn't and he backed up a bit farther than he had been before, creating a void between him and the Sound wolf.

"Whatchu hurr?" he was probably just as difficult to understand this time, but of course he didn't know that was the reason the other wolf hadn't spoken before.

Perhaps it was the lack of words that made him more uncertain about the stranger than the lip curl.

More words that would not be understood between them. "Δεν μιλώ τη γλώσσα σας," Spyridon explained, knowing full-well that he would not be understood. Perhaps showing rather than remaining mute would put the boy at ease, who seemed to have been somewhat put off by him all of the sudden. Why this was, Spyro did not know. Interactions with outsiders were always difficult, though adults tended to understand or at least accept that Spyridon could not speak to them sooner rather than later. Pups, on the other hand, couldn't quite grasp the concept.

The funny thing was that even if Spyro had known English, he likely wouldn't have been able to decipher the little dude's muddled toddler-speak. Spyridon had not been around too many children of his age, as spawn were typically kept in the den until they had made their first kill, back in Hippo Tang Cove.

He huffed.  The words the other said were garbled; he understood them as well as he understood a bird talking to him.  Constantine tipped his head and scrunched his nose for a moment, then figured it out: ah, he could gesture!  The boy moved his muzzle to gesture at the deer which were almost unseen now beyond the borders of his pack, because they had kept moving instead of waiting for him to clarify what he meant.

His head tipped questioningly and he licked his lips.  Trying to indicate: wouldn't you want to catch and eat one?  It was really hard to do charades with no hands, but the boy was doing his best.