There is something wondrous about exploring the outside world, especially when he knows well that his sister has done so too. She has slipped away and so has he, all too accustomed to his mother's habits. She has been quiet of late and with it, his confidence has begun to bloom. No longer does he linger by the den's mouth but rather, he toes the borders; he toes the ocean's gullet; he slips free from the vastness of Glorall and into the forests to the west, where new scents hang from every inch of the land. It feeds his curiosity and he finds that he cannot stop; from the depths of the forests, the earth soon becomes stone beneath his paws. His claws clatter against its surface, a timbre that he has not yet learnt to silence.

He moves with a practiced ease, though, through the labyrinth of stone and weeds; he has explored the cliffs that litter Glorall's shores, and he knows how to keep his paws surefooted if not quiet. And so, he is captivated by the splinters of darkness that swallow up the earth below. It is almost instinctive, mindless, that he approaches them, his form struggling through its entrance. He has, after all, heard a commotion within; a yelp of pain, of somebody being startled. It is familiar and yet, not. It is not an emotion his siblings show often and so, he cannot help but feel his heart flutter with the excitement of it all. Insatiably curious.

He blends with the darkness, it seems, feeling his way across the stone floor below. Click, click, click. His pace is always so steady, and he only pauses when the earth above him splinters and casts dappled light before him. He remains hidden, cloaked in the darkness, as he watches a pale form move about before him. She is small like him, and yet vastly different to the others he has seen. His exposure to others his age is... limited, to say the least. The smell of blood, however, makes him lick his lips with a quiet whine of repressed hunger and intrigue.

His cover is surely blown then, and he cannot help but tentatively step forward on feverish, anxious paws. He wishes to tumble forward and lick up any remains below her and yet, simultaneously, he wants to tackle into her and see if she is just as chewy as his siblings. For now, though, he does not know how to approach. He merely waits, his eyes locked onto the blood that covers her muzzle.