growing pains

He stepped out of the maternal den with a long stretch of his even longer legs. When the distance between him and the outside world appeared to shorten, only then did he begin to realize just how big he was getting. He was looking ever more-so like his father by every day's past, at least that's what his mother would tell him.

Atta hardly cared.

Not because he didn't value the good looks of his father, no. He didn't much value good looks at all. Yet all the older ladies in the pack would rave about his delicate and handsome features, pinching his cheeks like old grannies.
He much more dreamed of a life of hard battle, scarred faces, and death of evil foes. Each day he ventured further towards their border in hopes of intercepting a villain and each day someone would find him and reel him back into the safety circle. He hated it.

Today Atta only watched with a sense of pride, atop an outcropping that gave him good view of the southern side of the mountain. In the distance he could see the Ichorwood and it's red tree tops as well as the mountain range of the Highvalley. It was pretty and even prettier when viewed from such a angle.

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