Word Count :: 330
haha awesome! 
and I think Skoll is gonna explode...
A laugh and a comfortingly strong voice cut off the boy’s howl. Green eyes barely a shade off the creamy dog’s widened to the size of moons, and Skoll let out a euphoric squeal of, “Daddy!” before leaping mightily from the rock.
Or, at least leaping mightily had been the idea. He misjudged and fell against his father’s leg, quickly rolling over onto his back with paws tucked against his snowy-colored chest. Big eyes continued to gaze adoringly up at the King as his tail wagged against the grass.
“Did I do good?” the young Haskel burst out. “Really? I gunna be like you!” He continued to wriggle, as if he couldn’t decide whether to leap up onto all fours or keep lying puppishly at his father’s feet. There was a pause as Skoll wondered what to say before the might of Vigilante; while it had been a while since he had returned, the boy still found himself thinking of his father as someone to worship, someone who went away and did really important things. Definitely, his absence had shaped the boy’s image of him, but whether or not that was good had yet to be seen. Right now, he smiled and flipped over onto his tummy, giggling and inhaling for a huge childish ramble.
“Guess what! Guess what! Terra an’ I finded”—he paused, tried to correct himself—“founded bones in the temple-place! An’ I look fer fairies in the fields, an’ Caspa says there not any fairies, an’ there were no fairies ’cause the flowers dead, I think. She pushed me onna swing! Daddy, is Caspa part ghost?” His tale ended with an abrupt question and a tilt of his head. The young woman had insisted she was a wolfdog like he was, but he still thought her fur was a little too wispy and pretty and her features a little too long to be a normal wolfdog. But his daddy knew everything; surely he could tell him.
Image courtesy of Frank Wuestefeld @ flickr; Table by the Mentors!
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