skill:

He had never seen such pretty things as the little twinkling dancing lights. He knew that the herd would not stay here forever, and eventually, they would seek the cold. Tsaali didn't know if he liked the way that the air felt here, the salt he didn't mind but it was so thick at times and humid, it almost pulled at his fur. Caribou Calf felt the dull aching throb still deep inside the joint and at times - especially in the evenings after a full long day - he still limped on that left hip.

It was beautiful here, even if he did not like how the air hung thick with moisture, and watching the way the waves lapped at the shore was relaxing in a sense. He could let his thoughts still, he could let his worries just ebb away like the water did from the shore. He worried if he shamed his parents. His siblings. His Aunt. His cousins. His Uncle. Ice Raven. All of Saatsine. There was so much he could lose if he did. The boy's ice eyes closed for a moment, nose twitching as he tried to bury down the sharp rise of emotions.

He wouldn't.

Born to the deep cold, C’eghaan has since decided he misses it. War son wants for the bite of the chill and needs his coat thick and dense. Here he is constantly pulling at his pelt, panting, tongue lolling as he wades into streams to cool himself.

Insects with thick carapaces scream a song into the night, punctuated by cricket chirps and the call of birds.

The nightshade boy pushed through long grass to find his brother. A grin pulls over his face as he spots the familiar pelt of moon silver and barks out. He wonders why he is off by himself, and not with the best of brothers.

”Tsaałi! Hiding from all of us?”