January 26th; Mid-Afternoon; Cloudy; 22 ° F, -5 ° C.

When it comes to being a Lyall, there were personality markers that defines one's very essence. One, there is a deep sense of loyalty to family and friends; two, there is a generous amount of empathy that welled within them that was easily replenished and willingly spent; three, there is an undying need to perform one's duties (whether it was minding prey, scouting about, or even taking care of the younglings and the elderly). For Niles Archer Lyall, these traits rang true. There was no doubt about it, but being still a monthling on the cusp of his approaching adolescent years, he had no idea how to act upon these emerging desires and needs. What perhaps had him the most caught up was what his father Angier had mentioned about being a lord and a prince and why his father so often denied he was a king.

As he stepped through the creaking trees in the midst of a chilled afternoon, the boy pondered these things, sticking to the well-traveled trenches that were his older siblings' boundaries at the edge of Willow Ridge. He was nearly as tall as his father and Skoll now and had already outgrown the regulations that kept him bound to the pack dens. He might have not been able to really survive out there on his own without someone he knew to propose hunting tactics or how to pinpoint the location of a wolf bird, but he was certain he could at least stand his ground on the boundaries of his family's lands.

A crow called overhead and he stopped to looked up into the skeletal umbrellas that were the willows. His tail flicked and an ear quirked to one side. He wondered what that meant, only to find that his heart felt like sinking into his stomach. Surely, Isolde would have known.

It wasn't long until Niles was joined by another. Upon first impression, the younger wolf gave a start, mistaking the other Archer-Lyall for the older brother they usually avoided - Skoll. He kept his lanky limbs slightly splayed in the snow as he regarded Greer with a repentant whine and a tousled tail that waved about in the air. Had he been just a few months younger than he had been before this very moment, he might have made a beeline for his sibling's side and chest, lapping his tongue at that stark black chin; but the colder months, it seemed, had placed some distance between them. Not only was Niles no longer small and roly-poly, but more "adult" stuff had taken over and now there were conventions in places where there were none before. Like here.

The small bark was more than what the youth had anticipated and, really, when Niles considered it, it was all he had needed. "You're..." he began, the word cracking in the middle. Perhaps if he hadn't hesitated, it might have been pronounced smoothly. "You're still here." His whiskered eyebrows drew up and he took one step forward to try and communicate that he wanted his brother's presence. He didn't need to be close enough as to be within one another's personal space, but he simply needed to know that it was "all right" to approach, to know that he was welcome and wanted.

A small whine fled his lips and his tail slowly fell limp at his heels. "Greer?" in saying the other's name, he hoped he would keep his attention, "Are we safe?"

“Greer…" the older prince uttered, "Greer think so.” With his own ears folding back at last, Niles drew even closer. He wouldn't sit just yet though, his limbs felt too itchy and restless to settle down just yet. At least, that was until Greer bestowed upon the younger boy an assurance that, perhaps, only older brothers could give. He would always keep Niles safe. Always.

Despite the gentle wave his tail had taken up, Nile finally reclined forward in front of his sibling, his own pale irises fixated upon his darker brother's face. In all honesty, he was curious what he might find etched on that ebony face, what might come from within that skull and off those ink-lined lips. Skoll and @Morganna, or so it seemed, wanted nothing to do with him (or, he had thought, on one occasion, he didn't seem important to either of them). The other brothers he had only ever heard of - Asriel, Castiel, Deacon - were long gone, maybe never to return home. To Elettra's youngest boy, these men were nothing but names, men whose names might find their legacies extended elsewhere beyond Relic Lore and beyond the distant kingdom of Torbine.

Several questions seemed to play on the boy's lips, forming words without them being spoken. For a time, he simply blinked, sealing his lips shut as he thought, knowing from experience and other encounters with the family that well-chosen words were everything. He focused now on Greer's nails - or where they ought to have been being buried in the snow. Then, a thought, more prominent than any other, struck him and he peered into the shadow's face once more. This sort of closeness in spirit and in proximity, he hoped, was enough for whispering. It was mostly common knowledge now that the youngest heir of Willow Ridge spoke to no one but those whom he trusted most. Greer, obviously, was one of those individuals. "Can you keep a secret?"

The younger Archer-Lyall's willowy limbs folded as he sat before his now captivated audience. it was in this very instant that Niles could appreciate what (appropriate) distance time had put between them as brothers. It had made the boy realize that even a bit of maturity (the parts of him that knew that he didn't need to bombard Greer with playful nips and tail tugs just to get his attention) was enough. The ears atop his head tentatively rose and his bottle brush of a tail came to drape over his toes.

"I think I made Isolde go away," he whimpered, averting his eyes once more. "I didn't mean to. I told her it was a game; she knew it was a game. We were looking for fawgs--" This pronunciation of the word "frogs" had obviously never been caught or corrected, "in the snow. We followed the creek and I told- I told her not to go too far 'cause Mom would get mad. I turned around because i thought I heard something under the ice and when I looked back she was gone." His teeth clenched together, almost certain that he would get a nip to the ear for straying too far. "There weren't any tracks. I couldn't follow."

His already tall frame sunk lower as he bowed his head, "I waited. I waited and she didn't come back. Not even for the game... for me. Issi always comes back for me."

Unbeknownst to the little lord, this was perhaps the first time he had ever uttered a hundred words at one time. Typically, he let his scoffs, laughter, smiles, whines and whimpers speak for him most of the time. “Niles not make Issi go away,” Greer lent. It only made the cub's ears fall back again, disbelief bubbling up in his chest. He really did feel it was his fault. What should have been just an innocent game, one they have always played together no less, became something terrible over a long span of time.

The older Archer-Lyall went on to assure his brother that Isolde was just lost. This made Niles frown. In his mind, his sister never, ever got lost; that was commonly his job. He saw Greer's ears fall back also and the boy whined, the note growing louder upon comprehending that last statement.

"I wanna go too," he decided, his tail wiggling now at the thought of coming along to help. "I'll help look for Issi." Those similarly colored irises met those of his older siblings, an expression of pleading reflected within them. The way he saw it, he was an older brother, too, even if not by much (mere minutes, most likely). He felt he held just as much responsibility in regards to pushing for the effort to bring Isolde home.