Towering Heights

Lately, Basilisk could feel the most peculiar itching in his bones. It was driving him up the walls, and he found himself stretching his legs and running patrols more often than usual. Attempting to stretch out the feeling. When his Grandfather ordered him to head to Isa’s den and go hunting with the other wolf, he was happy for the distraction. And, since she was a slave, she wouldn’t protest if he ate some of their kill, right?

Adjusting to a change in his height, the Armada heir knocked his head on a few branches before he made his way to the Col and scratched at her den entrance. “Isa?” He called out, his expression automatically flitting into a polite smile as she made her way out - only for it to falter for a moment. Man, she was short wasn’t she? He tilted his head down all the way down to see the wolf. She barely came up to his chest. “Hi, Er, I’m Basilisk. Seer’s Grandson.” He said, still recovering from his surprise. Why was it that lately everyone seemed so short.


"Speech"