The mouth of the den breathed cold air, and Achlys stood just outside of it. He wasn't pacing, or restless but present in the way a stone was. He'd positioned himself slightly off to one side where the shadows deepened and he'd been there long enough that the smaller critters had stopped noticing him. A sparrow had landed three feet from his forepaw, but he hadn't moved.

The young boy caught Fiora's scent before she had rounded the last bend, it was woodsmoke and something medicinal, herbs he didn't know the names of but recognized the shape of in his mind. There was pale green/gold the color of things that would mend.

Ebony crown would turn as she came into his range fully, those hollow sockets settling in her direction with the particular unhurried quality of someone who had never needed to blink. The meal grasped between her jaws was difficult to miss, the blood smell arriving well ahead of her and he heard the muffled boof around the hoof.

The small ones were sleeping, last I checked he offered in a low tone. But that might rouse them his expression was its usual arrangement, difficult to read and unsettling at best. But there wasn't anything hostile as he stepped a fraction away from the dens edge, which for him was more or less a welcoming gesture.

The little royal didn't quite notice it at first, given his age, yet over time would begin to notice the world outside the den mouth. That world out there always seemed to accompany two others wolves outside from the two which were his mother's within. One black. One brown and white. Always around, lingering. It was about due time he met them properly.

Rousing from the tangle of her sister's and one large paw of his Móður on his hip as she too slumbered, Rhaegal yawned and made lazy steps into the direction of the den opening, following the scent of meat.

Outside was a gray haze - it always was, if not completely dark all together as the Sun struggled to show itself as months and months past. His mother's had spoken of it, about how bright it was, how it warmed the world. He didn't know how he felt about that. Couldn't quite decide what ‘bright’ really was.

Eyes like moms. His speech was still quite limited, of course, but it would be obvious who he met as he looked up at Fiora with goat leg in her jaws. Then, as he turned to the wraith. No eyes. Children had no filter.