| present-dated, roughly 1 year

It had only been a year since Svajone had found Vidarr again. Only a year since Reid's birth and his very close call with death. Only a year, but the fragile infant once cradled in Vidarr's feathered paws had grown in leaps and bounds under the steady care of his parents.

A year later, and Reid is a boy on the cusp of a man. Wiry and light on his feet, he's more acrobat than the once-frail child he once was, more a creature of flight than a creature clinging to the crumbs of life. Wavy fur frames handsome features courtesy of his mother, but the self-assured swagger he carries himself with is unmistakably modeled after Vidarr.

The sky is a shadowed tent-roof, strewn with scattered starlight illuminating the alpine night. Beneath it, Reid is on the move, as always. A flourish of his tail, a near-silent tread of his paw, and a mischievous expression adorn him. There is no audience but the sky and himself, but the boy still conducts himself as if his sneak-attack is the performance of his lifetime.

Ahead, Vidarr is a star-studded mirror of the sky. Reid flicks his tail like a matador's cape, crouches a little lower on his lithe limbs before springing forward. He's fast and can redirect momentum on a dime, but Vidarr is a wall he can always count on to hold him. A throaty half-growl rumbles playfully in the boy's throat before he makes impact, pouncing on his Tata who still dwarfs Reid, no matter how many hard-won growth spurts the boy hits.