four months | Svajonė or Vidarr likely nearby/welcome to join!

The dream had been...scary. Reid knew Vidarr and Mama would never let anything happen to him. They'd defeated a bear! But the visions in the dream had still been frightening. And now, a faint blue light could be seen illuminating the low-hanging clouds in the deep hours of the night. It made Reid a little...nervous. But not nervous enough to stay cooped up in the safety of the cozy den for very long. Wary of catching yet another cold, he huddled in the cuddle-pile of Ma and Vidarr until the light at the mouth of the den indicated the sun was as high as it would get for the day, even masked by the clouds.

Then, the boy freed himself. The days of stumbling paws were almost behind him. He didn't have any siblings to play-fight with to improve his motor skills, but he had two very involved parents who would gladly put up with the robin's rough-housing and non-stop chatter. Reid's lung capacity probably rivalled a whale's with how practiced he was keeping up a stream of conversation during whatever energetic activities he put his mind to. Today, he wanted to see if the daylight would let him get a better look at the scary blue glow. The snow was a staple of his life and Reid traipsed lightly across the powdery snowfall with ease, tail stiffly arched behind him to keep his balance and in response to his determined excitement.

Pine trees swallowed his silhouette up, their bristling needles dusted with frost. The alpine wind pressed Reid's thin coat slick against his skin as it picked up, wailing as the gust coursed down the mountainside. The boy braced himself against the force, wrinkling his muzzle into a grin when he was not bowled over. A little further wouldn't hurt!

Snow crunched nearby to alert the robin to an approaching creature. He expected Vidarr's dark visage to appear from between the trees, and plopped his rear into the snow to attentively wait for his guardian to appear. An elk cow gracefully entered into Reid's view instead - dark eyes reflecting the boy's dumbstruck awe back at him as the elk regarded the tiny pup. Leaf-shaped ears swiveled back, then forward. A plume of condensed breath snorted from her muzzle, and this prompted the beginning of a building giggle from Reid's throat.

SKILL: ORATOR (1/5)

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Svajonė had not meant to sleep so deeply.

The mountain cold always made the den feel smaller somehow, warmer too, especially with Reid tucked against her and Vidarr's steady heat at their backs. It was the sort of comfort she had once gone years without, and because of that, she had learned not to trust it fully. Even now, with the wind moaning beyond the den mouth and the pale blue cast of that strange light staining the clouds, some part of her had remained lightly strung through the dark like a thread pulled too tight.

So when she woke and found one warm little body missing from the pile, sleep left her all at once.

At first there was only the sharp, ugly plunge of a mother’s fear that stilled her heart. Her head came up fast, ears pitched forward, breath caught halfway in her throat as her dual toned eyes swept the den. Reid’s scent was fresh—fresh enough to soothe the panic before it could become something uglier, but not enough to settle her entirely. He had gone recently. Gone alone. Svajonė rose without a sound, careful and quick, the ache in her healed leg little more than an old ghost now as she slipped from the den and into the brittle mountain air.

The world outside was washed in silver and blue, cold enough to sting the lungs. Reid’s tracks were easy to follow, stamped bright and small across the snow in a line that made her chest tighten despite herself. Determined little thing. Brave little thing. Too brave, sometimes. She moved after them with quiet precision, pale coat gathering frost at the edges while the wind combed through her fur. The trees swallowed her for a time, pines standing tall and dark around her, until at last she caught sight of him ahead—a tiny russet and white shape planted in the snow, staring at something much larger than himself.

And then she saw the elk.

Svajonė stopped at once, every line in her body sharpening. She did not rush in wildly, did not call out and risk startling either creature. Instead she stepped forward with the deliberate calm of a woman who knew fear had teeth and that panic more often than naught sharpened them. Her head lowered slightly, posture neither aggressive nor meek as her gaze flicking once over the cow before settling on Reid. There was a softness to her then, even through the tension, something almost exasperated and fond all at once. Reid, she called gently, her voice low as snowfall, puiul mamei (mother's chicken)... my sweet boy. Her eyes moved once more to the elk, then back to him. You do love to find company where you ought not to, da, dragule? (yes, darling?)

By the time she reached his side, she pressed close enough for her flank to brush his, shoulder, a quiet anchor of warmth and presence as she stood next to him. Her nose skimmed over the top of his head in an instinctive check, as if to reassure herself he was whole, before she let out the faintest breath through her nose. Vai de mine, copile, (Woe is me, child,) you gave Mama a fright. There was no bite in it, only the lingering tremor of a love stretched too thin. She kept herself between him and the worst of the wind, watching the elk with a measured stillness before letting her mouth curve into something small and tired and unbearably tender. It was the look of a mother who had learned to guard her little blessings close, as though fortune itself might grow jealous and steal them if she boasted too loudly.

Come then, inimă mică, (small heart,) she murmured, brushing close in that old, instinctive way a women soothed with touch, warmth, and nearness long before words ever came. You may look, but not so close that your courage outruns your sense. Her flank stayed firm against his shoulder, shielding him from the worst of the alpine wind as her pale double toned gaze lingered on the elk. Some beauties are meant to be admired with respect, nu atinse. (do not touch.) You watch with gentle eyes, yes? Like a good boy. Then, softer, nearly under her breath, as if spoken half to him and half to whatever listening spirits haunted mothers in the snow, she added, Hai, dragul meu. (Come on, my dear.) Stay near your mama.

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