Da seemed to accept his story, and with the reassurance that Ma was far, far away, the boy grinned. It seemed that despite his little transgression, he would be quite safe—a fact which pleased him immensely. It would be their secret, just his and Da’s (and maybe Gal’s, if he swore never to tell Ma). Though Casca was too young to realize that secrets were essentially the family business, something about this first confidence attracted him nonetheless. The intimacy of the knowledge he now shared with Da, the thrill of this small deception…Casca was not a duplicitous creature by nature, but he felt a warm glow as the silent agreement settled between them.
However, that blush of excitement was nothing in comparison to what he felt when Da pulled the crown from his bag. “I was trying to find a suitable head for this,” Da began, but already the red colt was rushing up to him, neck craning this way and that as he shamelessly ogled the trophy. His father set the circlet in the grass, and the boy nearly pounced upon it, baby whiskers brushing the gems and shallow breath fogging the cool surface of the intricate metalwork. “What kinda head, Da?” he asked, though he really wanted to shout, me! Mine! My head!
“A proud one,” his Da went on, “One who bears a strong blood of wolf and gold…” Here, the boy tilted his head, mistaking his father’s meaning for a literal one, but the drooping ears stood on end once again as Da continued: “A red prince of Helovia, not afraid to chase away any invaders—“
“THAT’S ME!” he squealed, squeaky voice threatening to drown out his father’s monologue in his uncontained glee. “I’m the head!! Right, Da? You’re not just foolin’ with me?” He danced a little breathless jig on the spot, wheezing from the exertion but ignoring the protest from his underdeveloped lungs. “Ooooh, lemme try it, Da, put it on!” he demanded, taking it in his teeth to pass to his father. “I’m gonna look just like you!”
"blah blah blah."
OOC: :DD
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