The day's weather had been no more or less desirable than it had been for moons. The rainy season seemed to persist, if for now it only hung in the distance as low, rumbling clouds. The rain had yet to find him there, but it did not keep the more metaphorical clouds from hanging low around the boy's shoulders. Don't go here, don't say that, don't ask questions. Ugh! It was enough to drive any creature insane. Gaios winced and threw a quick glance backwards over his shoulder, as if his father might have been able to hear his thoughts, and might subsequently appear at any moment. Gaios was a young prince, and was expected to act like one. The world was theirs to inherit, or so his father claimed. That was all well and fine, Gaios supposed. He wanted the whole world, what youngling didn't? Only he was sick to death of all the threats and posturing that came along with it. Couldn't he have just a few moments without the talk of doom and destruction and war? They were concepts he couldn't really wrap his young mind around. Amon talked at great length of the battles he had witnessed, or participated in, by the time he was Gaios' age. Well, it didn't make Gaios or his sister any better of a fighter, did it? The ghostly boy sat down with a thump. Surrounded by the grove of withering wildberries, he could pretend for a just a moment that he was alone there. Their season was passing, and any berries still clinging to the vine were bound to be soft and tasteless. Gaios wished he and Liyah had been brought there when they were smaller to taste them, and play among them. No, they had drilled battle tactics in the canyon's basin instead. Gaios frowned, staring off into the grove as if the brambles weren't even there. What were normal pups supposed to do, anyways? "Talk" "You" Think

The trouble had started a few days ago with an offhanded comment made by his father; the boy, barely a year old and almost as tall as his sire had been complaining about the stink of rotting fruit that now filled the orchard, to which his father had commented “Aye, that’s when froots at eets best.” His father had said and when he asked what he meant the shaggy male had cleared his throat and told him “Nevar ye mind. Go ‘n git,” and so he had gone ‘n git straight to the trees to find a pile of stinking fruit in an attempt to find out just what he’d meant. He had wrinkled his nose and grimaced horribly as he bit into a sickeningly sweet apple and the stagnant muddy taste of the brown wrinkled fruit seeped into his tongue causing him to upchuck the piece of fruit and everything else he had eaten for the past three days. His first thought was that his father had played a horribly, nasty, trick on him, and then slowly began to realize that it hadn’t all been quite as bad as he thought. There was an aftertaste, one that made the pit of his stomach feel bubbly. Had anything he had ever eaten made him feel bubbly? He looked at the fruit again and narrowed his eyes with determination. Maybe if he held his nose… Holding his nose hadn’t helped the mushy texture but he had managed to power his way through the whole apple without losing anything else in his stomach and by the end of it he felt more than bubbly he felt absolutely giddy and suddenly it became important for him to tell Amos about his discovery. He had tried to walk between the trees back to their den but couldn’t seem to manage it, either because he kept pulling to the left or because he couldn’t seem to remember the pattern needed to walk; front right, back left, back right, front left, back left, front right, back right, back right again- and would end up tumbling over until ultimately he fell asleep where he landed and woke in a thirsty haze the next morning, still too young to know the downside of consuming alcohol in excess. Which brought him to now. He had gone through most of the fruit in the orchard and he had found himself wondering if all fruits had the effect or if it was only apples and pears. He had traveled south looking for more groves, then more south, then more south until before he knew it he had crossed the Bifrost and entered the other continent and found himself sniffing the floors of the grove for the stench of rot. Speaking Thinking You

Gaios blinked bi-colored eyes at the youth as he swaggered his way into the grove. The wind was with him, so Gaios could not get a good sense of the other, though based on features alone he looked nearer to his and his cousin's ages than to that of some of Gaios' other family members. Well, if he was close to Gaios' age, what on earth was he doing alone all the way out here? Gaios was keenly aware that he ought to have an escort along to mind him, but avoid such a circumstance was exactly what had led him there. Well, best deal with the consequences, he thought to himself. If that's slumming it with the local rabble, so be it. And, of course, Gaios would be lying if he were to deny being ravenously curious about the other male. At first glance he seemed his opposite in every way. Where had the boy's life been to have led him there? Surely far different than Gaios' own. "You there!" He called out then lurched into motion as if making a sudden decision (which, admittedly, he had.) "Hey! What are you doing, exactly?" Gaios battled to claim even a hint of the edge his father's voice took on when talking to someone he deemed lower than himself. The pale youth sucked in a breath thinking about it. Unfortunately, the pressure to act as his father did ultimately did little more than take the wind out of his willpower. The voice that did leave his mouth was remarkably weaker, and much less impressive. It sounded almost... polite? Fallen God, was he ever glad his father wasn't there to see it... "Talk" "You" Think

He lifted his head abruptly and wheeled around to look for the source of the voice wide eyed and staring at the spectral looking boy as if he were his own mother catching him doing something wrong. Thus far no one had stopped him or asked him where his parents were although he could never say he’d ever been so far from his home before in his short life. Some distant part of him wondered if his father had noticed, and he had quickly filed that thought away where he could safely ignore it “Uhh…” He said, his jaw hanging open as he thought of what possible answer he could give to the boy- right around his age he suspected. He closed his mouth, if there was a word for what exactly he was doing he didn’t know it, and so he gave the only answer he could. “Looking for rotten fruit...” He said sounding mostly unsure of himself. It wasn’t until he said it out loud that he realized how stupid the whole thing was; he was quite literally looking for garbage. And why? Because it made him feel funny. Feli would take a piece out of his ear for sure when he got home. Speaking  Thinking

The strange boy seemed as surprised to see Gaios as Gaios had been to see him. They shared an awkward moment of staring silence before he was able to conjure a response. Looking for rotten fruit? It seemed like a silly reason to be wandering around, but this wildberry grove seemed like a good place to do that, Gaios supposed. He couldn't quite figure out what impression it made upon him, so Gaios pushed for a bit more, driven to figure the other male out. "For fun? Like a game, you mean?" He didn't really play as many of those as he saw his cousin's playing, and the ones he did play usually ended with someone getting beat up. His father said that those were the best ones because they would make him strong, and Gaios wanted to be strong, only... Well, searching for rotting fruit sounded like more fun than getting beaten up. Gaios took a few steps closer, giving the other male a better appraisal. He was dark in coat with bright green eyes, slender in build and a bit smaller too. He wanted very badly to know where the boy had come from, and what things were like there. Gaios had certainly inherited his father's pinpoint curiosity, that was undeniable. "What's your name?" It didn't occur to Gaios that he ought to offer his own. After all, he'd never had to do it before. This was his first time meeting someone who wasn't in his family, and they all knew his name. He just wanted to know what to address the other boy as, because he doubted 'Fruit Boy' would go over very well. "Talk" "You" Think

“W-well…Not a game exactly.” He muttered. In truth, because his father had been the one to mention it, Rogdar had started to believe that what he was doing was one of the many many things that grown-ups were allowed to do, but he and his brother specifically weren’t. He smiled to himself suddenly, “But it is pretty fun.” He said gleefully and even started to giggle. “You eat ‘em and it makes you feel weird and makes everything look funny.” He explained, his tail starting to whip to and froe in spite of himself. "What's your name?" The boy had asked, and Rogdar froze again momentarily before grinning rather wolfishly. “I am Rogdar Allentide!” He said sweeping his head back with pride. “At your service!” He said and bowed deeply with one paw tucked against his chest the way Feli had taught him to. Rogdar was far from intimidated, or even worried, he had after all fought another pup around his size recently however unlike her this boy looked normal. He thought back to Philopena and how she had tried to embarrass him. And felt a small twinge of emboldened but distant fury. This one was different, he could tell. He didn’t have a stupid look on his face or freak fur. He was in a word; cool. “What about you?” He asked chipperly, suddenly eager to have a potential friend he could call his own. Speaking  Thinking