There truly was nothing better than laying by the chest of his mother, splayed out so that he might feel the thudding of her heart against his own. It was her voice to him, the sensation that let him know she was there and when she was not, he often awoke confused by it all. Thankfully, his sister was seldom far from him and each day, he grew more and more aware of how lucky he was to have her. Like his mother, she provided him with warmth, comfort and yet, she also provided his active mind with fascination and awe. In fact, he had awoken at some point during the night and had shifted closer to her, nestling in against her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest beside him.

Then, she roused him come the first light, the sun reddening the backs of his eyelids just moments before. He had grown accustomed to her particular way of waking - she moved a certain way, her paws felt a certain way and she would always smell and look the same to him. Now, he no longer needed to worry about waking up with the feeling of fleeing. Instead, he merely rolled onto his paws and yawned, shaking his dark fur free of dirt in preparation to, well, cover it with dirt and twigs once more. He knew the reason his sister woke him for and he was excited all the same; so long had he spent staring up into the space above them, fixated on all the possibilities that lay out there. His mind was a world of imagination, colours and lights flashing behind his eyes as he slept. He wanted to see them all up close though, and feel the songs they sang.

Stretching out, he huffed once before grinning up at his sister, head cocked and tail waving eagerly. He understood one thing of the world, already, and it was something that he hardly cared for: apparently, others could understand part of the world that he could not. At times, his mother's mouth moved in peculiar ways and yet, nothing came of it. What he had pieced together was that they could understand the way the wind moved over her teeth and tongue - he had tried to mimic it, moving his mouth and blowing air through his throat. They were rasping sounds, not yet words and yet, it was a taxing practice. He simply wished to be able to feel the sounds, feel what it felt like when his mother controlled the air. Tuari couldn't either and that made him feel less powerless.

As she crawled from the den, he followed closely, though slower always. It seemed when he moved, his mother would react and yet, he found the slower and more careful he was, the less she did. With each step, he turned back to watch her, expecting her head to raise or an eye to peer up. So far, it worked and with a devilish smirk, he leaped from the den's mouth. Instantly, he felt the wind blow through his fur, running lines across his skin. As Tuari bounded ahead, he took a moment to simply enjoy the sensation, the gentlest bite of cold playing across his flesh. It was a beautiful thing, and he yipped in excitement, swatting at the currents that swelled around him. Above him, he could see the shades of blue and white drift on and on, the brown and green of trees dancing idly in the wind. It was much to admire and yet, he could still see his sister rolling in the leaves, beckoning him forward. It seemed she was in no mood to admire the lights and colours around them.

Resigning to his fate, he too bounded forward, his paws shaky and unstable but eager all the same. Like his sister had, he bounded into the leaves, feeling them crunch and fold beneath his paws, the softness of the grass below them a stark contrast. With a leap, he intended to tackle his sister so gently, toppling her once more into the leaf litter. He grabbed one of the leaves, a large almost star-shaped one and tasted the grittiness of it, growling and shaking it as he backed up in an effort to lure his sister into a tug-o-war.