Sex: MaleApril 4th; Morning; Partly Cloudy; 29 ° F, -2 ° C.
Spring was finally in full swing. The weather was still chilled in the mornings, but with his coat still being partially full, Rook did not seem to mind. Swift steps and a decent pace kept the blood running through his veins. At the very least, he was absolutely grateful for the sunny skies and forecast without the fog and frost. Even if sparse patches of snow still dappled the pine-needled kingdom within this part of the Cedarwood, Rook was certain that it would all melt away soon enough - release, at last, the last grip that winter had on this part of Relic Lore.
Since his and Quil's den had been completed, the young Lyall had resorted to traversing the borders, maintaining them in his father's stead and helping the rest of his companions by pulling his own weight and then some. He had not done all of this for nothing, to sit back and reap in the fruits of his labor and determination; he had done this for the sake of his family and would continue to shoulder the responsibility of it all until the day he drew his very last breath.
A muddied forepaw rose up and with enough force, his black-nailed digits found purchase in the rough texture of the bark. Revealing what the phloem and cambium he could, he hoped it would be enough with a stamp of his pads to ward off any rogue that might come upon his parents' lands. As far as he was concerned, they were here to stay... and he was going to make sure of it.
The youth planted his paws back down into lush carpet of grass, rich soil, and dried evergreen needles, stepping back to briefly admire his work before continuing on towards his brothers' graves at a slow sauntering walk. For the time being, all was quiet - seemingly at peace, even - and he was going to absolutely relish every minute of it.