it's 2:45, the baby takes his first breath

The Glen floor was a carpet of dead, dried magnolia petals, as it had been for the past month, but lately there was something else happening, as well: the leaves that had been so strongly held to the trees for the entirety of Kyros' young life were no longer green. They were instead dressed in splendid, royal hues: reds and oranges, vibrant yellows in places. To the young Argyris-Tainn, it was a thing of wonder and majesty, and every morning when he wandered from the den to face the day with his normal brave façade, he found himself drawing strength from the beauty of the trees. Sometimes, he liked to imagine they were wearing those colours for him; the colour of heroes, to herald his return to each waking day!

It was such a fantastic thought that he kept it to himself, a carefully guarded secret that even Hypatia couldn't have teased past his lips. So desperately did he want to believe it was true, that after a while, he truly did.

This morning, however, the air was infused with a chill Kyros had never before felt; his breath misted before his eyes and, fearing some fire had been lit within his belly and fearing the worst, he had cried to his mother his worry, only to have it explained to him in the simplest way it could be. Something called "autumn" was coming, and with it would come colder weather, and his breath was misting because the air was cold and that's just what happened. Though he was concerned about the validity of it, the boy had accepted that explanation, for Borlla didn't seem worried about it; neither then should he.

It was the second change of the morning that put Kyros in panic mood and sent him to his proverbial knees (in this case, to sit down heavily, as if shocked): amongst the fallen magnolias were crinkled, hardened remnants of leaves from above. Kyros found a cluster of them beneath one of the grand trees, and instantly believe they had abandoned him; they were not wearing heroes colours anymore! The leaves in the very underbough were still resplendent, but those crowning the tree had faded to dull brown, and even as he watched, two fluttered down from the canopy to the leafy graveyard below.

His breath hitched in his chest and he sat back heavily, cradling his stump close, as if he had any choice. How could they leave him like that? They wore heroes colours for him, he thought! Maybe they were as hopeless as his situation was; he didn't want to believe that, either, but the despair of the possibility that even the trees thought he would never be a hero swept through him anyway.

Sorry so much shorter and suckier than yours. :c

His morning had been spent like any other – his trek across the borders had proven to be uneventful, which, in truth, was how he preferred it. He had quickly run into Inkheart, who had briefed him upon his own findings, which had once more been nothing much of note. Otherwise, Magnolia Glen remained silent, and as he trailed along a path that lead him to the den, he found himself revelling in the quiet. Autumn was certainly upon them – some of the trees had already changed to a beautiful hue, and some had already shed their leaves. More would follow suit, and each day he knew would become colder and colder, until the drizzle and rain would turn to flurries and snow. He was curious to how Kyros and Hypatia would react to such a season – he recalled as a cub, he and his brothers had romped in the snow endlessly, never tiring of the games. Perhaps he would show his children how to build a makeshift snow den.

Of course, his thoughts usually drifted to his progeny, but as he came upon the sight of the den, he noted the small figure of his ivory son. Kyros sat, seemingly lost in thought, and while Phineas could not read the boys emotions fully, he sensed the young Argyris was distraught somehow. Ushering a low bark to gather the attention of his only boy, a small smile looped itself on his muzzle as he padded closer, greeting Kyros with a nudge to the crown of his head. “What’re you up to now?”

I'm so sorry for the wait on my posts! D:

He forced himself to swallow hard, forcing down the dizzy feeling of being left behind by the spring foliage invoked. He was yet a boy, and overreaction was to be expected, but the feeling was unlike anything he had ever had. His chest had grown tight as anxiety gripped him and threatened to overtake him... But thankfully, he was saved from experiencing his first true anxiety attack by the approach of his father, which was strong enough to settle his racing heart and chase away the ghosts that taunted him within his own nerves.

His breath puffed from his nose in short, distressed gasps, even as Phineas' nose brushed over the short fur atop his head. He tilted his head back to deliver a respectful lick to the underside of his parent's chin, secretly hoping that the nobler Argyris did not notice his fear, and did not ask him what was wrong, for there was weakness in him that he was loathe to admit to his family.

The leaves are leaving, he said, doing his best to hide his mood from his tone, but likely doing a poor job of it. But, like any young child, Kyros was satisfied with his performance and truly believed it was convincing, even if it was far from it. His eyes sought his father's gaze for some comfort, though instinct drove him to flick his eyes away almost as quickly as they crawled upward. Even though Phineas was his father, the nature of wolf was stronger in Ky, especially since his future would see him constantly needing to appease the wolves who kept him alive while he was incapable of fending for himself, or anyone else.

Ommggg.. I am terrible. :c I am so sorry!

His eyes swept over his son -- his gaze always managed to avoid looking at the stump that had not produced fully in to a leg. Perhaps had he not stressed Borlla so during her pregnancy with a journey over the mountain, the boy would not have such an ailment. And yet perhaps this was what fate had intended one way or another -- he was unsure, and yet the only true terror he held for Kyros was not in his doubt for survival.. but his doubt for how the boy would find himself as he grew older. Magnolia Glen would always be a home for his son, and it would be unlikely he would survive on his own, or be accepted to another pack.. whether this would be a hindrance or a blessing to the youth would remain to be seen.

Kyros' explanation drew amusement to the leader. Most of what either of his cubs said would usually stir entertainment in his soul, but there was something so innocently stated in the ivory cub's statement that captivated Phineas. They were so new to the world and he had so much to teach them. "They will be back," he assured his son, his eyes drifting away to the scattered leaves that now adorned the ground of their home. "Come spring, the trees will flourish once more." He paused momentarily and he moved over to a small leaf pile, lowering his muzzle to nose at the tattered and torn remnants. Once a bright hue of auburns and yellows, they seemed to turn brown once fallen. "The change of seasons is always welcome to the wolf," he offered, a glint of amusement flickering in his gaze as he turned to look back at his son.

With a nod of his muzzle, the man began to lope away from the boy, hoping to lead him in to the colored foliage. He would explain the many seasons of life to his son, and he could only hope Kyros would grasp the severity some of them held.. especially the winter.

(This post was last modified: Nov 21, 2013, 06:23 PM by Phineas.)