Basilisk gave it a couple nights so the pups would be unsuspecting before he picked his next victim. He’d really enjoyed his time with Balrog in the quiet of the night, and wanted to extend that bonding with another of his children.

He was once again picking at random, trying not to have favourites or let any specific pup come to mind as he looked over the sleeping bundle and tugged gently on the ear of one of them. Waking them and putting a single digit to his lips to indicate quiet when their eyes fluttered open. “Come on.” He whispered encouragingly, moving to pick his way over sleeping wolves.



"Jamie"||"Iskandor"||"Selene"||"Citadel"||"Selene"||"Balrog"||"Ignita"||"Basilisk"

Iskandor stirred at the gentle tug on his ear, a faint frown pulling at his face as his sleep was disrupted. His eyes fluttered open, the world around him blurred in the quiet darkness. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the dim light, before his gaze fell on Basilisk, his father. The figure loomed over him, and the soft whisper reached his ears beckoning him to follow.

A shiver crept down Iska's spine, but he forced himself to remain still. His piercing blue eyes darted toward the others, still slumbering in peaceful ignorance. His mind, young but sharp, was already racing with questions. Why him, at least this time? What was expected of him?

He caught the gesture for silence, instinctively following it, though his heart pounded in his chest. Despite his age, there was a certain awareness in him, a caution not typical of most pups. Iska hesitated for only a moment, then rose slowly, careful not to disturb the others as he mimicked his father’s movements. His thoughts swirled, a quiet storm of anticipation and unease, but he kept it hidden behind a composed face.

As they moved away from the group, Iska's muscles tensed, his ears pricked forward, trying to sense the purpose behind his father's actions. His youthful regal posture barely wavered, despite the unease growing within him. Still, he was his father's son—curiosity and strength wrapped in youth. He would face whatever came, silently, waiting for the reason behind Basilisk's summon.

The night stretched before them, quiet yet full of unspoken intent as he followed.


"Speech"

The young boy followed his lead, keeping the silence as they manoeuvred over Iskandor’s litter mates with care. Once they were free of the bodies, it was easy to move to the dens entrance. A few moments later, they were out in the open air beyond. He closed the door slowly behind them, holding his silence as they trotted down the path into the Col.

Finally, they were far enough away that they could risk speech. “Cliff top or beach?” He directed to Iskandor, raising a brow as he considered his child. Curious which way the other would pick. They were young enough that their explorations had yet to get very far, so either option would have an appeal.


"Jamie"||"Iskandor"||"Selene"||"Citadel"||"Selene"||"Balrog"||"Ignita"||"Basilisk"

Iskandor moved with quiet precision, following closely in his father's wake as they navigated over the slumbering bodies of his littermates. His ears twitched with every soft sound, every shift of fur and paw, his heart racing beneath his composed exterior. Once they slipped free of the den, the cold air outside hit him with a sudden clarity, and he inhaled deeply, savoring the crispness. The faint glow of the night’s sky reflected off the distant peaks of the Col, casting long, silvery shadows.

He turned back briefly, watching as Basilisk gently closed the den door, sealing them off from the safety of home. The quiet crunch of paws against the dirt was the only sound as they padded down the path, heading further into the vastness of the wilderness.

When his father finally spoke, the words hung in the still air like a question carrying more weight than just choice. “Cliff top or beach?”

Iskandor’s ears flicked, his gaze shifting to his father, catching the raised brow and the subtle challenge in Basilisk’s tone. He knew the question wasn’t just about exploration—it was a test. Each path held a promise of discovery, but each also carried its own risks. The beach meant venturing closer to the unpredictable waters, a realm of uncertainty and untamed force. The cliff, however, promised height and vision, but with the danger of a fall should he misstep.

The boy considered for a moment, his mind already analyzing the choices. Despite his young age, curiosity surged within him, urging him to make a decision that would prove his growing boldness.

“Cliff top,” he responded, his voice steady, but his eyes betraying the flicker of excitement within. He wanted the height, the vantage point—to see the world from above, just as his father did.


"Speech"

Basilisk could see the steady consideration in Iskandor. He struck the Warlord as a wolf that would grow to consider his actions carefully. A good trait to find in a Fatalis. Discovering who his children would become was fascinating, and each step they took to growing would change or strengthen those traits. He was… delighted to meet them, and anticipated meeting who they would become. Was fatherhood like this for everyone?

“Clifftops.” Basilisk agreed decisively, offering the boy a secret smile before leading him through the Col. It was a short walk in the cool night before they hit the path to First Light Point. Sometimes difficult to traverse even in the daylight for its loose stones and sudden inclines. He walked on the side closest to the drop, keeping Iska by the mountain as they hiked it. “Which territories have you explored so far?” He gently probed his son with questions as they walked.


"Jamie"||"Iskandor"||"Selene"||"Citadel"||"Selene"||"Balrog"||"Ignita"||"Basilisk"