Mischievous was not a word that was commonly attributed to Ivan.  The Typhoon cubs’ prank had not been something he was fond of. It made him realize how different he was compared to most kids. His seriousness dragged at his feet like a shadow and he was uncomfortable with the idea that he was not very close to any of his peers, despite there being a ridiculous surplus of children. This sudden realization prompted him to make a commitment to be more receptive toward others. His siblings were fairly easy to get along with and he had little to non negative opinions of them. Alice was one whom he treated very kindly and he was certainly excited to be accompanying her. This would be the first time he ventured beyond the borders. They were three and a half months old now — they could take care of themselves, with perhaps an adult to help.

  “They live on an island.” He recalled Goldie’s fishy scent. The smell of dirt and mud was much better, or perhaps he was just used to it. “Well they painted our trees. Maybe we could put mud all over theirs or near their border.” He wasn’t really good at these things, but he was trying.