OOC

Lánxuě —

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Eventually, all of the noise grew so loud that it just became the constant drawl of static.

Every laugh. Every jubilant cry. Every celebratory howl. Every child's screech. Every maiden's giggle. Every reprimand from his parents. Every annoying cry of his siblings and packmates. All of it congealed into some unnamed mass of noise that Hemlock could no longer comprehend.

And Starflower would fester in the static, his skin crawling. Venom eyes would blink, glancing upward at the sky and looking through the dappled canopy until he heard nothing at all. All he could see were the sunspots in the edges of his vision and the flickering of the trees in the afternoon breeze. His concentration lay there, and yet nowhere; his ears flattened against the top of his head. There was agitation in his tiny eyebrows, despite the simmering and uneasy grin on his childish lips.

It was the butterfly flickering past his vision that would release him from the entrapment of his self-induced trance.

Without a word, his head would swivel, eyes trailing after the soft flutter of yellow wings.

And the young Callosum would leave the busy clearing, drifting after a butterfly. It would appear innocent to most, for he was just a little boy ... smiling ... trailing in the wake of such a gentle insect.

But Hemlock needed nothing more than to escape. And now, his overstimulation drove him to hunting. And he would catch this little bug. It would be his prize. It would be the sacrifice to a mind that screamed for some way to release this anxious energy held within a body so small.

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SKILL: SKILL NAME (1/5)

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The wedding was so big.

There were too many feet, too many voices, too many smells that tangled together until Lánxuě could not tell where one ended and another began. Her father was somewhere among the guests, and her mother, and all the others who seemed terribly tall when one was as small as she was. The little snowflower had spent much of the celebration tucked close to those she knew, content to watch with wide gold eyes while the world moved around her. Every so often someone laughed too loudly and her ears would fold against her head. Then they would rise again. Slowly. Carefully. Curious despite herself.

It was the yellow thing that finally stole her attention.

Lánxuě's tiny head tipped upward as the butterfly bobbed through the air, its wings opening and closing like a flower that had somehow learned how to fly. Her mouth fell open. She had never seen such a thing. Or, perhaps, she had—but one month of life did not leave much room for remembering much of anything. Her gaze followed it until another small, but large body passed through her vision after it. A boy. Lánxuě blinked curiously before her attention shifted between the boy and his fluttering quarry.

Her paws carried her after them before she had entirely decided to go.

She was not quick. Even for a baby, Lánxuě was painfully small, her legs short and delicate beneath her, and every determined little step came with the faint sway of a child who had only recently discovered that paws were meant for more than crawling over siblings. Still, she followed. Step-step-wobble. Step-step. Her nose lowered once to inspect a fallen petal before she seemed to remember there was something far more important happening and hurried after him again, which amounted to a slightly faster, considerably less coordinated toddle.

When Hemlock drew close to the butterfly, Lánxuě stopped several little body-lengths behind him.

She sat.

Or tried to.

Her rump landed with an inelegant little plop, nearly carrying the rest of her backward with it before her forepaws splayed wide enough to save her dignity. Oblivious to what Hemlock intended for his prize, she stared at the butterfly with round-eyed wonder. Then at him. Then back to the butterfly.

F...fower?

The Common word came softly and imperfectly from her mouth, shaped with all the uncertainty of something newly learned. Her nose wrinkled.

Fly... fower?

A tiny tail gave one hopeful thump against the earth.

Clearly, Lánxuě had solved it.

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OOC

Lánxuě —

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Elusive butterfly!

He would paw at it, and yet he would not reach it. Those fluttering wings danced with the same golden grace as a shimmering sunrise glittering on the leaves. It was just a reflection, perhaps, and never something he was meant to reach. Every clumsy leap would best him, every snap of his childish jaws landing on empty air as the butterfly floated just out of his grasp. And eventually, it would escape into the canopy, chasing the golden light from which it was born.

And Starflower would frown.

"F...fower?"

Flower?

Starflower?

Hemlock's gaze disengaged from the canopy, whirling around to the girl who had somehow apparated behind him. She sat there, tiny and built of colors that Starflower had never seen before. He wondered if she, too, was just as fleeting as the butterfly. If she was a figment of a mind that screamed for reprieve.

For a moment, he just stared at her.

She looked like melting snow.

He didn't know her.

But how did she know his name?

"Fly... fower?"

And her tiny tail would thump against the earth, as if proud of her accomplishment. But Hemlock, ignorant and selfish, couldn't understand that she had said 'butterfly', instead focusing only on the family name (Starflower) that she somehow had figured out just by looking at him.

His skin crawled, only a little.

And he kinda liked it.

How you know? His tiny brows furrowed, squinting at her as he took a small step closer. They were both round, potato-shaped. And yet, somehow, she was much more delicate. Like ice. Like snow. Ready to shatter or melt. And Hemlock ... he was an eternal flame, still burning (much to everyone's dismay). Hem-lock. His name. A correction.

Not Starflower.

Who you?

'And how do you know me?'

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SKILL: SKILL NAME (1/5)

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The yellow flower got away.

Lánxuě's little face tipped farther and farther back as it disappeared into the leaves, until eventually she could stretch her neck no more. Her ears drooped with a faint sort of disappointment. Gone. She had only just found it, too. Worse still, she had only just found the word for it—or what she thought was the word for it. Surui had been teaching her Common in tiny pieces, naming things again and again until sounds began to mean something, but there were still so many things in the world that Lánxuě simply did not have words for yet.

"How you know?"

Her attention fell back to the boy.

Lánxuě stared.

Her golden eyes blinked once. Then again.

Know... what?

The question was much too large for such a little mind. Her brow pinched as she worked terribly hard at it, gaze wandering from Hemlock to the place where the butterfly had vanished and then back again. Eventually one tiny paw lifted and pointed clumsily toward the canopy.

Fower... fly.

There. That was what she knew.

But then he gave her something else.

Hem-lock. His name.

Oh.

Her ears perked immediately.

Hem...lok, she repeated, softer than he had said it and rounded strangely by her little tongue. Her expression brightened with the quiet satisfaction of getting something right. She had not known him at all! But she did now. Hemlock. The little girl committed this newly acquired information to whatever strange place one-month-old children kept important things, alongside Mama, Bàba, milk, Surui, siblings, and apparently flying flowers.

"Who you?"

That one she knew.

Lánxuě's tiny chest puffed.

Lán!

Her own name came considerably easier than all this troublesome Common, spoken with the confidence of a child who had heard it cooed, whispered, fretted over and repeated around her since she had been given it. Her tail began its little thump-thump again before she leaned forward to sniff at him, nearly overbalancing herself in the process. One forepaw shot forward to catch her weight.

She remained like that for a moment—rump high, nose low, staring up at Hemlock from between oversized ears.

Then, because introductions apparently required additional explanation, she added very seriously,

Bàba... weddin'.

One tiny paw gestured vaguely back toward the distant celebration. As though this explained precisely who Lánxuě was.

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OOC

Lánxuě —

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"Flower... fly."

Hemlock watched her, half-fascinated by her novelty ... but also half-annoyed. Why didn't everyone understand what his infantile mind desired? He did not fathom that she may not speak his language. That she may be trying her best. That she, like he, was only a child.

"Hem...lok," she said, finally.

Yes. Hemlock, he confirmed, waving his tail gently as she understood.

Her ears would perk up, excited.

And Hemlock felt it vibrate within his little chest.

Her excitement excited him.

"Lán!"

She shouted. She waved her tail. She danced.

Hemlock would mirror her movements. Oh! Lán! Hemlock spoke again, exuberant, now smiling as he puffed his chest in unison with her own. And for the first time, he would taste her name on his own tongue. It was soft and foreign. And yet, it was so easy to speak. Easy for him to say.

Lán.

Everything made sense now. Hemmy and Lán. That was all. Yes. It was the right place and the right time. Two children meeting in a way that words could not confirm. Just a nod. A wave.

A crush.

It was cute.
Sweet.
Something that would go away.

Or was it something else?

Danger.
Growing.
Invisible. To both of them.

"Bàba... weddin'."

Hmm, he started, pawing at the ground mindlessly as his youthful mind churned and turned. Wanna watch? The wedding. For whoever Bàba was. Hemlock didn't know, and maybe he didn't care. He wasn't sure what he cared about, afterall.

Or, he started, head turning away from her to search for the missing butterflies. We find somethin' for us? Why celebrate the adults when there was space for them? Why should their parents get all the prizes?

Butterflies. For them.

Flowers. For them.

Yes, they could have it all.

Somethin' for Lán and Hemlock? He would add the words, accentuating the internal monologue. And Hemlock would wave his tail ... ever-so-friendly.

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SKILL: SKILL NAME (1/5)

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When Hemlock danced, Lánxuě immediately tried to dance with him, mirroring his moves.

Her little forepaws bounced clumsily against the earth while her hindquarters wiggled behind them, and her tail swept from side to side with enough enthusiasm to nearly upset her balance. He had said her name. It was not all of it, but that did not matter to her. He knew that she was Lán now, just as she knew that he was Hemlock, and this discovery delighted her far more than such a simple thing probably should have.

Hem-lok! she chirped back at him, managing the word with far more confidence than before.

His excitement seemed to make hers grow. Lánxuě did not understand why, nor was she old enough to wonder very deeply about it. At only a month old, feelings were simple things that arrived without explanation. Hunger hurt. Her mother was warm. Her father was safe. Loud noises frightened her until something more interesting came along. Hemlock smiled at her, and because he smiled, Lánxuě found herself smiling back.

When he asked whether she wanted to watch the wedding, her attention wandered toward the distant celebration. There were still so many wolves gathered there that she could hardly make sense of them all. Somewhere among the shifting bodies was her father, and Lánxuě understood in the vague way of very young children that today belonged to Bàba somehow. There were flowers, food, laughter, and more strangers than she had ever seen in her very short life.

She had already seen Bàba, though.

Hemlock was new and he was now her friend.

Her golden eyes returned to him when he offered another possibility.

"Somethin' for Lán and Hemlock?"

Lánxuě's ears lifted immediately in curiosity. Lán... Hem-lok, she repeated slowly.

She looked from herself to him as though putting their names beside one another had revealed something very important. Her tail began wagging again while she worked through the little bit of Common she knew, searching for a word that seemed appropriate. Yes! She yipped as her excitement got ahead of her legs. Lánxuě scrambled to stand too quickly, tangled one tiny paw beneath another, and promptly toppled forward into the grass. Her chest landed with a soft thump while her rump remained pointed rather inelegantly toward the sky.

For a moment, she stayed there. Then her little head lifted. Find! she declared. Whatever Hemlock wanted them to find, she had already decided that she wanted it too.

Lánxuě pushed herself upright again and toddled toward him until her tiny shoulder brushed against one of his forelegs. Standing beside another child only made her own smallness more apparent. Hemlock was young and round himself, but Lánxuě looked almost impossibly delicate beside him, with short little legs and a body that seemed better suited for curling beneath her mother's chin than wandering away from a wedding.

That did not stop her. Littleever could.

She raised her nose and sniffed thoughtfully at the air. Flowers were something she understood. Flowers smelled sweet and grew everywhere, and perhaps there would be another flying flower hiding somewhere nearby. Her eyes searched the grass and bushes with all the solemn concentration she could manage.

Then she saw yellow.

Lánxuě froze.

One tiny paw lifted from the ground, and her golden eyes widened as she stared beneath a nearby bush. She did not know whether what she had spotted was another butterfly, a flower, or merely a yellow leaf caught among the greenery. To her, the distinction hardly mattered.

Hem-lok, she whispered urgently. Her gaze never left the patch of yellow.

Fower.

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