Lillith and Andras had seemingly left them for the day; with summer having come to Iromar, he had noticed them leaving more and more. His mother, too, did not so willingly give them time to feed - instead, she often snarled and snapped at them, or stood tall above them in what he imagined what some sick game. Already, he had felt her teeth on his ears and muzzle when he had tried too hard or had sunk his teeth into his mother in a defiant attempt to get what he wanted. He had followed his mother and father out of the den several times, loitering about the mouth of the den before being pushed back into its depths by his mother. The first season of his life had been an endless battle against his mother's desire to push and shove him about - as the largest, built like a barrel, even he had noticed that he took the brunt of her frustration. In turn, he had grown frustrated himself and today, he finally wished to vent.

After some time, he had once more clambered to the mouth of the den, spilling out onto the open marshes of Iromar. He was broadly build, practically square in shape with thick, stumpy legs even for a child. His fur had begun to lighten into its true colours, too - his entire neck and throat was a stark russet, his elbows tipped in such a colour too. Even the end quarter of his tail had been dipped in the hue, a stark comparison to the flat black of his body. Mother had at least spoken positively of such marks though, surely, Siren's were mentioned to be positively better, as were Naberius'. It was no surprise his temper, inherited from his father, had come into play as he stormed from the den. He moved with relative confidence, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world as he tailed what he assumed was his mother's scent. Unbeknownst to him, however, the scent was truly decayed flesh - his mother had simply scavenged long enough that her fur had become riddled with such a scent. Still, he was frustrated and wanted to bite into her toes and paws for having left without feeding him in particular.

It seemed he was getting closer to the smell and with a quiet, high pitched growl, he began to trample forwards. Never having been as fast as his siblings, he made up for it in sheer sound - he was heavy, his big paws squelching through the mud and slush as he charged for the pile of bones and carcasses. He didn't understand or even think of why his mother would hide in such a place - he merely found the scent familiar and charged for it. With a final leap, he collided into the build up of death, the bleached bones snapping and clacking together beneath him. All the while, he growled and chewed into whatever he could grab at that moment, finally able to vent his frustration even if he had not found purchase of his mother's toes. At this point, he was truly rolling about in the scattered remains of an alligator - beneath him, dried, fly ridden flesh squelched and coated him in an awful scent. He didn't notice though, merely continued growling and snarling to himself before he heard the voice of a girl. She had been barking, a sound that he took to mean she wished to play.

With another growl, he rose to attention, his own hackles attempting to stand on end before he leapt forward. He threw his weight atop the intact half of the alligator, scrambling so that he stood atop it. Once he was there, he caught sight of the girl, his ears pricking and eyes wide with keen interest. She was like him - dark and russet. That came as a surprise but it changed nothing. He had been roused into the desire to play and play he would; atop the alligator, he figured he had the upper hand.

He once more charged forward, charging awkwardly down the beast's head and broad snout before throwing his weight forward and, hopefully, into the girl. He would aim to solely push her around as he was so often - shoving into her, his broad paws reaching out from time to time to pummel into her chest or shoulders. If she even stopped once, he would turn his attention to the alligator once more, attempting to chew and bite into the thick hide over its snout. This truly was the best way in which to vent his frustration - much better than dealing with his mother.

A S T A R O T H
[ an eagle doesn't catch flies ]