From the moment that Da settled the crown on his head, it felt right. Perhaps it was only natural, seeing that Ma and Da (especially Da) liked to wax poetic about their princely heritage, but Casca had never felt truly special until now. Feeling the gentle weight of the metal encircling his ears, the red colt stood a little taller and the tiny chest puffed forward ever so slightly. “I can’t wait till I’m big ‘n strong like you, Da,” the boy chirped, admiring the effect of his Da’s own crown. There was something about it that just made him seem so powerful. Would he be like that one day too?
Seeing as he admired Da more than anyone else in the world, when his father offered another stealth lesson, Casca jumped at the chance. “Yeah!” the red colt agreed with a series of vigorous head bobs to signal his enthusiasm for the idea. Time alone with his father was a rare treat indeed, and Casca intended to milk it for every minute that it was worth. He wasn’t very good at the sneaky steps that Da had showed him and Gal—somehow, he always managed to snap an errant twig—but he was eager to please. “Look Da, I been practicin’!” the boy told him, demonstrating the exaggerated catlike walk that had resulted from his bastardized interpretation of “sneaking.” Ever so carefully, yet with great flair, he set down one cloven hoof, then another…and then, as he turned back to see his father’s reaction, Casca snapped another twig. “Shit,” he muttered, and then remembering that he wasn’t supposed to use a swear (no matter where he had learned it originally), glanced sheepishly at Da.
“Darn?”
Maybe he would be better at whatever Da taught him today than he was at quiet feet.
"blah blah blah."
OOC: this is like my favorite thread
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