Mama's sleep-hushed voice brushed against Reid ears; familiarity and fondness were warm as any hearth in his veins at the sound. The soft, silken flow of Romanian punctuated her greetings - much of which went in one ear and out the other for the boy. He was still engaged in the conversation, and mumbled under his breath in mimicry of a real response, until Svajone's velvet muzzle nuzzled against his cheek. A pleased squeak and a giggle filled the den at the tickle of her whiskers against his face, eyes squeezing shut. He did not see Vidarr arrive, but his dark nose twitched just before a kiss was pressed to the little Lăutari's crown.

Mama asked why they did not sleep longer, and his answer to this and her question of adventure - his favorite word, which made his floppy ears prick and eyes go wide - were one and the same. Oo'side! He was very proud of this word, and waved his tail fiercely in expectation of praise.

Like all babies, Reid was easily distracted, and the Thing that Vidarr had brought them filled his still-murky vision as he turned to see what the man was doing. Mama was always around, but Vidarr was sometimes gone. Very mysterious, the things he did. Very mysterious, the thing that he had now. Reid backed away from the new thing until his rump pressed against his mother's side, assured that she would shield him if it turned out to be frightening. Strange, leaf-like smaller Things swirled through the air, breathed from Vidarr's maw, until a few of the smallest came to rest at Reid's paws.

Oh. Feathers.

He loved feathers. Tan paws tipped with tiny, sharp claws batted at the new toys, attention entirely secured by the turkey feathers' enigmatic movement and ethereal softness.