Shivering, the war son locks up and stills himself. He dares not let brother see but glances out the side of his eye to gauge his reaction, his shoulder pressed against for warmth. How odd, how chilly!
He does not let himself react for too long before trembling, he shakes it out, marching forward as he squints ice eyes to direction of light. Little dark lashes block out the blinding rays, and he is in awe at the sparkling, glittering scene before him. A noise of excitement escapes his maw, a little grumble of approval. With a huff he jumps again, and the shimmering dust escapes his paws, dancing in the air between them all.
