he is a boy of little outside interests. he is a student of the stars, a believer in things beyond sight and beyond the usual cultural acceptance. where alexander was the brave one, the leader, herschel was silent and subtle. where vladimir was eerily calm, interested in the macabre and unflinching at the violent, herschel was always instead seeking remedies to those ills that befell those around him. where even constantine, the newest and most bright of their companions (metaphor and literal), was a dreamer and storyteller -- and arguably the closest in demeanor to himself -- herschel was not so openly companionable and stately like his friends genetic predisposition thanks to neirin, constantine’s biological father.

all in all, what else was to be expected? he was born of some strange gypsy woman and the elusive youngest and smallest brother of the fantastic four -- a name that his uncle and father had taken to calling the four boys who seemed especially drawn to one another’s company. herschel, having read this recurrence in the stars, could not argue - even if the nickname was horrendous and haughty.

but now he is nigh two, almost as large as he would ever be, and he looked for ways outside his brothers to spend some time to know the world of plants, of myths, of dreams, of visions in mind and star. it takes little effort to find his way to aplos riverside, and then to find the strange woman who sought so, as she said, free someone beneath the ice. it is a startling though, his own knowledge of what mountain run off could feel like seeping beneath underfur giving him a startling edge to jump forward and join the fox-pouncing and digging at the ice that the stranger had first begun.

he whines, eager to help especially as he found no one to be seen beneath the layers of ice but bubbles and running water. “where did they fall!?.” he desperately whines again, trying to look for where he might (in a moment of insanity) go in after the individual-- as though he were large enough to help.