A hidden twinge of disappointment followed when extended muzzle met nothing but cold air. The moment quickly passed leaving him with little choice for anything more than retraction; though all the while retaining a common smile of pure pleasantry as if the gesture had never been made. Her cub moved toward him and under, one black auditory swiveled back in curiosity. This forest child seemed fearless in his golden eyes; a trait he couldn’t have known that came from the calmness Ktulu felt when an easy presence such as his came to view. Attention continued to curiously follow said little brown ball of fur who had decided that lingering among his limbs was well—a good thing. Frame tensed instinctively when soft hide brushed against his rigid cannon. A snagging along his tail followed next, pulling at his buttocks.Experimentally he flicked hair side to side, neck craned at an angle to see little bear leap with its motions.

"He likes to play with tails.” One eye brow rose with warm humor flooding in. ‘You don’t say’, he thought, a soft chuckle following her matter of a fact statement. "His name is Eytan." A simple, yet fitting name. Midas swayed ivory back and forth, flicking it skyward in an attempt to confuse and further the game going on between Eytan and his rear. Jokingly he added, “As long as his play remains along my tail, and teeth don’t take fancy to becoming an ankle biter.” Smiling he turned back to Ktulu. The same careful features covered her real emotions to his slip of words, but a lingering half grin didn’t slide past a closer inspection.

“Your eyes deceive you, Midas.” Says the temptress of his nerve. He smiled away her comment, realizing that his words would do nothing to sway her. She might find ungodly reason to disagree, but Midas found her to be one of the most loveliest creatures walking their planet. He could count a thousand ways by which to mark Ktulu on grace and beauty. Quietly the lad murmured, “I pray lies strike me blind.” His words were so soft it would be a wonder if she even heard him.

A question followed, “How do you fare in the Throat?” the hint of his smile widened, “I fare like all the others, cold at night and restraining from stringing a curse to empty sun come morning.” Their home had fallen into harder times this year, the elements seemed against them; all he could do was pray for a swift end followed by a blooming spring, “Nothing has really changed, days have been quiet since the battle….” He trailed off, a flicker of memories tightening throat. In his youth Midas had once dreamed that his first battle would be filled with glory and a sense of triumph, yet, whenever the thought came to mind he felt nauseous. Forcing past a frown that deepened tired lines across his face he asked, “What about you?”