Hearthwood River born to get wild

AW <3 
Sunny, 68° F, 20° C

It was a whole other world outside of the comforts of their den. At first she had thought the world a wild entity when they had simply changed dens the first time, but now she was exploring it on foot! The clumsy three week old was ensuring her feet stayed beneath her by taking exaggerated steps with her tiny paws. Her parents and siblings were within earshot, their voices beginning to familiarize themselves within her brain. Sometimes she felt a pang of anxiety when she couldn't immediately see them, but the young Stark had recently found herself near a brush of large greens. The colour was one unlike the ones inside the den, as were the earthy smells and sharp feeling of it. Her piqued interest in the fresh foliage seemingly a spark of the beginning of a long-winded obsession. 

Her mouth chomped on the stalk of one of the greens, her little pearls baring comically. The green didn't taste like what she expected, though she wasn't sure what she would expect green to taste like. She pulled back on the stalk, though its weight and strength were still much more than the few pounds the white girl boasted, and it began a inquisitive, but clumsy tug of war involving a lot of stumbling one or step steps forward and back. What a weird world that existed outside of the fur, milk, and squirms that she had only known before. She was going to like it, she was sure.

(This post was last modified: Jun 17, 2016, 03:55 PM by Atropos.)

<3

He was adjusting. As difficult and exhausting as it was, he was adjusting. Losing both Maksim and Naia within a few weeks of each other had been devastating for the river wolves, but the arrival of puppies — three of them! — seemed to rejuvenate the pack. Two of the three were his own flesh and blood, which still boggled his mind. He was a father, something he did not think would ever happen. And they were beautiful and perfect. Naia would have been so proud.

When he wasn't busy patrolling the borders and the neighbouring territories, Lachesis was playing house and keeping a watchful eye on his children. They had taken to Karina as if she was their own mother and were quite fond of little Bennet. He was thankful that the twins had another their age to play with, even though he was still concerned as to who the father of Karina’s child was. He did not pry — it was none of his business, despite his initial displeasure at discovering that she was pregnant. When she was ready to tell him, after confessing to her mother, Lachesis would try to be as unbiased as possible.

From afar he observed the little Stark as she scrambled over the ground, in search of something that had caught her attention. He was sprawled out against the grass, a lazy grin perched effortlessly across his maw. His chartreuse gaze grew soft as he watched her play with a bush, clearly enthralled by the foliage. The ghost did not interrupt his little dove for he did not want to smother her. A little independence never hurt anyone. 

stick with those who stick with you

@Lachesis I just noticed his last name is Stark now! <3 <3 <3
For the record, she's found pineapple weed. :)

The tough grass was shaping up to be a formidable foe, throwing around Atty's bodyweight with its recoil. She was only able to pull it back so far before one lifted paw gave the grass the upper-hand to pull her forward again. While it felt like a grand battle, the cub never made more than a few inches of headway, having it slip from her tiny jaws repeatedly. Realizing her defeat, and quickly losing interest in the battle, the little Stark let the grass go, watching curiously as it boinged back and forth from its release. Her blue eyes gazed up at it until it slowed; it was the neatest thing she had yet encountered in her short life.

A new out-of-den scent wafted registered in her small snout that caught her eye. Her newly pointed ears faced the smell as best she could. Its source was a few more green stalks down, but this one had a different smell. A.. sweet smell. The little ghost padded forward purposefully, glancing back to make sure her father was still within sight before confirming she could continue onwards through the terraqueous world outside her home. This green had yellow on it, and smelled so good. She prowled closer to it until her nose touched it, releasing a stronger sweet smell, along with movement. The pup doubled back, barking up at the strange plant. Why did it smell so funny?? She bowed playfully, tiny tail wagging in the air before proceeding again towards the plant. This plant was way cooler than the just green one.</p>

There is a rabbit's nest nearby. +1 Health

<3 figured I'd give him a surname finally ;) @Atropos

Lachesis had never been as content as he was now, observing his daughter flounder about as she explored her surroundings. She remained within eyesight, which made his job much easier. The little Stark was as fascinated by the piece grass she had grasped between her teeth as she was determined to pluck it from the ground. It did not hold her attention for long — once she realized she was unable to retrieve it she abandoned the grass. Something else had captivated her attention.

She moved clumsily toward a new plant, her tiny snout twitching as she approached the weed. The little dove was much more subdued than her brother; more observant and in tune to her surroundings. The Aegina couldn’t have been more like his mother — he was certainly a scout in the making. Trouble was a more appropriate word. Not even two months old and he had been labeled as trouble. A faint smile worked it's way onto his lips at the thought. I hope you’re not encouraging him, Naia, he thought absently to himself, his chartreuse gaze fixated on the lithe frame of his daughter.

The Stark was transfixed by this new plant — it was as though the first bush had never existed. She had stumbled upon pineapple weed, a useful plant for his practice, which grew abundantly within the Hearthwood territory. He was thankful for it's presence, for it had multiple uses  — but Atty did not care about that. At least, not yet.

“What did you find, Atty?” He called out suddenly, the lazy smile still resting gently across his slender maw. He was envious of her innocence. She had let to experience the hardships of growing old — and it would be quite some time before she did.

stick with those who stick with you

Her nose poked and prodded the strong smelling plant, her confidence renewed after she discovered the plant would be no threat. Her tiny nose began at the bottom of the plant, where the earth smell was stronger. Then the stalk, then the leaves. At a bold point, she opened her maw to bite one of the leaves, surprised when it ripped when she tugged. It only stayed in her maw long enough to find the strongest scent of the plant at its flower, where the leaf was sacrificed for a new snack. The taste in her mouth exploded into a wild new sensation. A small whine-groan escaped her throat, both concerned and impressed with her discovery.

Just then, she heard a familiar voice call out. She turned to face her father, but in doing so, she had kept her teeth clamped on the delicate stem, therein plucking it as her head turned. The release surprised the baby Stark, and she stumbled to the side a number of steps before her hip caught her fall. A few petals and stalk stayed in her mouth, but she was finished with that experience. It was too much for her little tongue for now, and she attempted to stick it out to remove the debris. Her eyes looked up again, remembering the familiar voice that had called out. Again, her mind was quickly distracted and pulled from its previous stimulant, and she smiled gayly as she galloped towards him, bits of weed still stuck to her face. She aimed herself to tumble her way over his forepaws, hopefully enabling herself to stand on her rear legs and get closer to his face.

Even with his daughter playing in the bushes in front of him XIX still found it difficult to wrap his head around the idea that he was a father. It had been a peculiar situation, done to benefit the future of Hearthwood, but he did not regret a single moment of it. His throat tightened as his thoughts turned to Naia and her untimely death. He wished that she was here to see their children grow — especially little Kyrios, who was the spitting image of his mother (aside from his alabaster fur, of course). His smile faltered. Even though they had not been a couple, Lachesis’ streak of chasing away the opposite sex continued. Perhaps it was a sign that the Stark was destined to be alone.

As he continued to watch his daughter the smile returned, his features softening once more. The girl took a tumble as she turned to look at him, the pineapple weed still firmly grasped between her teeth. Once the taste overwhelmed her the weed ended up all over the ground, her pink tongue poking out as she attempted to spit everything out. It did not take long for her attention to fall onto him once more, and within moments she was sauntering over to him. As fell back onto her rear legs he blew softly into her face in an attempt to get rid of the remaining debris.

He would be forever grateful to Naia for giving him this gift. While he wished that she was here to share it with him, Lachesis knew that she was watching over her children (and him). It still hurt, losing her — he was also still recovering from losing Maksim — but it would get easier. Two beautiful children had come from her death and he would do everything in his power to ensure they had a future. For Naia.

stick with those who stick with you

Ah, success! The little Stark's paws raised up to rest against her father's cheek and neck, bracing herself up so that she did not stumble backwards. He blew in her face, and although she saw bits of debris fly in front of her face, his intent was lost in her playful mindset. The rushed air had to have been a planned attack on her. She opened her mouth playfully, her tiny milk teeth jabbing at the large muzzle in front of her. Her tiny growl that she had been working on emitted from her throat, and she pressed with her paws against him repeatedly in challenge. She grabbed a tuft of fur on his cheek and tugged. He'd never take her alive!

Her father was so much bigger than her siblings. Both Kyrios and Bennet at least budged when she tugged. He didn't even make a sound for all of her might at trying to elicit a reaction from him. His automagical way of resisting her advances always baffled her. Her tail lashed back and forth in play, and she began pushing her paws into his fur in order to give her more leverage. While she appreciated the large ghost's calm demeanour most of the time, it made badgering him that much harder. She gave an ever-strong tug on his cheek fur, but the spaces and lack of grip in her fore teeth betrayed her and she felt her entire grip give way as she tumbled backwards.

Limbs and tail flailed until the world was right-side-up again, the pineapple weed debris on her tiny maw replaced with her father's white hairs. Blast! Fine, she would have to find a different way to win this war. This was a whole other battle than the ones she had just recently begun in the new den with her siblings. Once she righted herself onto all fours confidently, she raised her forepaws in a quick rear before she lunged forward in another clumsy gallop to attempt to climb the mountain that was her father's body.

The small bundle was both remarkable and incredibly amusing. His smile did not falter as she pummelled him with playful jabs — instead, it widened. As the little Stark pulled and tugged at his fur XIX remained statuesque, his forehead creased as he observed his daughter’s antics. Until the girl doubled — tripled — in size she would not be able to make him budge, no matter how hard she tried. If Lachesis had his way, she would stay this size forever; where he was the world to her and she was easier to handle.

She tumbled and he remained still, quietly observing her as she scrambled to find her footing. His cheek was sore from where she had been pulling but he dismissed it with a soft flick of his tail. The little Stark was determined, a quality that had come directly from her late mother — she was not going to give up on her quest to climb Mount Lachesis so quickly. As she launched herself forward and clambered up his body the white king fell onto his side wearing an expression of mock surprise as he yelped in defeat. His paws flailed at the sky as he tumbled under her small body, eyes shutting as his head flopped against the ground. The mighty ghost had been slain by the ferocious little snowball!

XIX continued to play dead, slowing his breathing as he waited for the perfect opporunity. Without warning, the ghost jumped up in hopes of startling his daughter, his crooked smile returning with a vengeance as he nuzzled his wet nose into her pale fur. 

stick with those who stick with you

While her ferocity might have been coming from the heart, the Stark princess most certainly did not expect her father-mountain to tumble like he did. It certainly startled the girl, but the excitement of victory fuelled her to 'finish him' nonetheless, despite the clumsiness that was her attempting to stay afloat his coat. It was not until her father's head hit the ground that she was concerned that perhaps she had gone to far. Why wasn't he moving? She scrambled her best up his chest, her tail wags slowing considerably. Her paws were splayed out to the sides, balancing as best she could atop of him, and her tiny black nose twitched back and forth. Had she really slain him for good? The victory was sweet, but the end of play was not so much.

Perhaps the pursuit of play would be better than any victory.. Deep thoughts too difficult for the Stark to comprehend.

She whined at him timidly in an attempt to rise him from his death, doing small jumps into his fur with her paws. His lack of reaction was disappointing, and so she continued to study his face silently, studying it for any sign of life. His ears, his eyes, his muzzle. He was just playing, right!? She craned her neck out to get a better look and sniff in concern.

The moment her father returned to life, the little Stark almost lost her own to a heart attack. His tweedle lure had worked fabulously, thinking that she had actually felled the strong mountain and actually done some damage to him. The giant underneath her rumbled and exploded with movement, sending the little girl into a great fright. A yelp emitted from her as she did her best to dislodge herself from all of the zombie-father fur, though her small legs could not scramble as effectively as she wanted. Once traction came beneath her on the ground, she did her best to run but her body was met with a familiar wet nose. There was a lot of stimulation to her senses and she collapsed away from his nose, still fully in escape-mode. Atropos slid onto her back and curled her tiny body around his muzzle, unsure what else she would do against her attacker now, other than kick and nip delicately -- entirely confused if she should actually be afraid of her father or not at this point.