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roughly eight months

The Black Spear had been on some of his best behavior. He had not wandered too far. He had not picked any fights with his siblings (any that THEY picked, whether it was because he'd provoked them or not...was a different story), and he had not overtly insulted any of the foreigners they'd stopped to visit with. Sverke was of mixed opinion about the groups they'd stopped off at. They seemed like a boringly peaceful sort, both of them, but Sverke was being introduced to outsider customs and new faces in droves he was unused to, and that was incredibly exciting no matter who it was he was meeting.

The important part was that he hadn't mouthed off to the Queen or Matriarch or whatever of this festival yet. Unfortunately, the festival had split up the caravan - the adults were off socializing, enjoying a much-needed reprieve from making sure none of their progeny wandered into a bear den. He didn't know where his siblings were, but he knew they were around, which was enough to settle the possessive instinct in his gut that urged him to protect what was his.

He'd seen some wolves with flower crowns, which he actually found rather charming, but the boy did not have one. He'd found the source: a raccoon, pale and weaving the flower crowns with odd little deft paws. Sverke had taken one look at that situation and found something else to distract him, because the raccoon's petite stature and twitchy movements set the hunter within the boy fully alert and dangerously interested.

Food would probably be a good distraction, and he was hoping the Avon wolves had something exotic to taste-test that differed from the island's hardy collection of various fruits, plants and meats. The midnight prince sauntered toward the carefully arranged feast, tail swinging confidently at his hips and head held high. He was a prince. He was a goddess' son.

He was sun-eater, greedy one, advent of the end, world-breaker - incandescent and altogether awe-inspiring, and carried himself as such. The feast was an impressive collection; bursting with color and smell that made Sverke's mouth water. He couldn't help his plumy tail swaying loosely as he approached, before a smaller figure hovering near the fruits caught his eye. He stepped closer, remembering his manners - he could be charming when he wanted to be. Are there any berries left -

Her face. It looked like a crime scene. Sverke's two-toned eyes widened. Did you eat them all??

Skill: N/A

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To be surrounded by strangers all day was exhausting—Lugh had noticed that immediately. And now, Mammy had gone off to speak with the grown-ups without him. As much as he wanted to remain at her heel, to be babied by the nameless faces was nothing short of humiliating. He opted instead to wander about, as he always would. Nose snuffling against the soft grass, tail wandering by his hocks.

He'd stopped by with the strange pale raccoon earlier that day. Let the prying hands fumble about with his coat (he was unsure why he allowed it; it tickled, and the occasional pull certainly hurt), leaving messy braids and small flowers bedecking his fiery tresses. He bid the blonde critter an awkward thank-you and goodbye, as he'd always been taught, before dashing back to the fields.

Now, he was hungry. His eyes wandered over the food, some of which he recognized as the 'adult food' which was off-limits to him. And yet, among them lingered a scent of berries, a stranger and Aisling...

...with hardly any berries to be found.

Tall ears overheard the angered response ('Did you just eat them all??'), and the lanky youth followed the voice until he came across the perpetrator of the situation. Aisling! Lugh barked, c'mon!! I wanted some o' that! He huffed and furrowed his brows. I'm tellin' the grown-ups. A huff and an upwards point of the pup's nose, and he began to trot away. Fable! Mammy! Aisling ate all of the berries and didn't share any o' it! An indignant sneer was thrown over his shoulder at his one-day-older niece.

The girl looked guilty as all Hel. Sverke offered her an unimpressed, pensive expression - not particularly put out by her crime's effects but mostly amused by her apparent horror at what she'd accidentally done. She looked silly, which in turn he felt made him look even more impressive than usual. So, this girl was alright.

Until another figure showed up, a stark contrast to the girl's delicate fawn-spots and peach-toned fur. This boy was bright as a flame, a dark wick cutting through the saturated orange. And he was also loud, and throwing a fit, which might've been ok by Sverke had he not immediately whirled to march off and tattle.

Ick. If he had such an issue with the girl's crime, why not just teach her a lesson with his teeth? Sverke moved swiftly, deftly sidling up to the tall boy with a peacemaker's easy-going nonchalance draped around his shoulders. Hey, hey, let's not go bothering the grown-ups with this little misunderstanding, huh? They're not gonna do anything serious about it.

Sverke hadn't missed the boy's sneer directed at the girl. His tail swayed lazily side to side, mind churning with ideas. He offered the boy a conspiratorial grin. We can make her make up for it ourselves, whaddya say? Make her run laps or something harmless, of course. The last thing Sverke wanted to happen at this weird (interesting) party was his dad appearing like a two-toned specter of righteous vengeance again.

Skill: Guardian [1/5]

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Lugh let out a 'hrrrumph' and shot Aisling a glare. I didn't want th' mushrooms, Aisling! He yapped back. 'Sides, my Ma told me that you'll hurt ye stomach eatin' so many o' that stuff. He frowned. Ye should've shared it. Now it's all gone, and you'll get sick. It was an unnecessary topper to bother the already guilt-stricken niece. That much, he knew—but at the very least, he wanted to drill it in her head not to do something so damn mindless.

His own frustrated tirade was interrupted by the older pup. A stranger, one who spoke with an odd lilt to his voice. Lugh spared him a glance laced with skepticism. 'We can make her make up for it ourselves, whaddya say?' The younger boy frowned. What's that even mean? He spoke with suspicion, with distrust. He subconsciously stepped closer to Aisling.

Sure, she was annoying, but it was still his niece. Lugh didn't know exactly what it was that this odd boy wanted to do to make Aisling 'make up' for her mistakes, but he didn't like the sound of it. That was enough to put him on edge.