The sky was gray, dreary - not a trace of sunlight could be seen peeking through the clouds. It appeared as though it would rain, but the heavens had yet to cry any tears. The sea was docile, as well; the dark waters rippled with but a few waves, none high enough to disrupt one's concentration.

Reyvn shivered in the cool morning wind, his cloak flapping about his body for a few moments before the gust of air subsided. He stepped up to the precipice overlooking the ocean, making sure to leave a good five feet or so between himself and the edge. He closed his eyes, practiced the breathing exercises to help clear his mind, and then concentrated.

He imagined the sky he'd just been looking at, imagined the currents of air as light blue wisps, imagined the air above of the clouds as pockets of energy. He envisioned the power of nature that was in the sky, waiting for his command. And when he could finally See the little sparks of energy flickering within the clouds, he rolled his eyes back and surrendered.

With his mental barriers lowered, he offered himself to the Energy Chain, allowing his soul to fill with magic. All at once, he was infused with power - too much power than he actually needed. Quickly, before the hunger could get the better of him, Reyvn let some of the power go, putting up his barriers once again. Now he had what he needed: the force that granted him the power to command nature.

He opened his eyes, brought his hands outward, as though offering a gift, and then spread them wide, leaving behind a trail of green sparkles. He raised his arms above his head, pressed his hands together and watched them become encompassed with a green aura. Then he slowly parted them, leaving his palms and fingers but a hairsbreadth apart. He channeled his energy into the sky, felt the heavens respond, telling him they were ready...

...And then he called lightning.

He couldn't help but release a little roar as he swung one hand down, evoking the electricity from the clouds. As his hand lowered, he curled his fingers until only the index finger pointed, guiding the vibrant green bolt to Reyvn's intended target: the ocean waters.

The lightning decided it didn't want to obey.

The green streak changed direction, and Reyvn gasped when his spell soared along the surface of the water, making zigzags and circles, before zooming back up to the clouds. Reyvn cried out when the bolt returned, propelling downward through another cloud and circling wildly through the sky.

He'd lost control, Reyvn realized. The lightning had been more powerful than him, and it had broken free. Now it was running rampant around the sky - and it was only a matter of time before it decided to strike land.

/Oh, gods.../

Quickly, Reyvn filled himself with more power, feeling the force of magic surge through his body. Once it was there, he channeled all he could to the spell that had somehow gone horribly wrong. He tried to take hold of it once again, tried to rein it in, tried to stop it before it hurt somebody.

After all, it was a spell. It wasn't alive; it was but a magical spell that he'd cast. *He* was in control, not the lightning.

Now, if only the lightning would accept that...

He put more effort into recapturing the spell, reminding himself over and over that he should be able to command his own magic, that he had to stop it before somebody was injured, or before property was damaged. He squeezed his eyes shut as he gave all he had to redirecting the lightning so that it would land where nobody would get hurt.

And then, the lightning obeyed - but obeyed too well. The jagged bolt soared up to the clouds, and then surged down once more...

...to return to its master.

"N-no!" Reyvn shouted, finally panicking. He backed away, raising his arms to shield his face. "No!"

He both heard and felt the lightning strike.

And then he felt nothing.

"...Reyvn...

"...Reyvn..."

The voice was gentle and warm. He thought he knew the owner, but couldn't be sure. He was tired - so tired - and all he wanted was to sink back into oblivion.

"Reyvn," it called again. "Reyvn, it is time to rouse yourself now. You moved; I know you've awakened. Come on, now... Let's see if you're all right..."

Slowly, gradually, the voice coaxed him from the depths of unconsciousness. Awareness returned, bringing with it a fierce hunger. Reyvn struggled to open his eyes. At first, the eyelids were too heavy to lift, but soon he was able to open one eye and then the other.

He found himself staring up at a very familiar face, and couldn't help but smile in relief.

The elderly man at his bedside returned the grin immediately. "Reyvn, my child, you will be the death of me, yet."

The memory of what had happened returned in one quick rush. Reyvn felt himself blush, feeling both embarrassed and pathetic, and looked away. "I'm sorry, Elthar, I--"

"Hush." His master held up a hand to silence him, and Reyvn shut his mouth. "Child, the important thing is that you're all right. You're hungry, are you not?"

"Ravenous," Reyvn replied truthfully, and his mouth began to water when the scent of roast beef filled his nostrils.

Elthar chuckled and gestured to the bedside table. "There is a plate of food prepared for you."

"Thank you, Elthar," Reyvn said, and he meant it. Cooking was his duty, not his master's. He made to rise, but discovered he was still weak.

"Easy," Elthar soothed, and helped Reyvn prop himself up on the pillows. "Being the victim of your own lightning spell...is not something you can file under 'Just a Scratch', you know."

"It..." Reyvn frowned, trying hard to remember exactly what had transpired between his losing control of the spell and his loss of consciousness. "Did it...strike me?"

"No, my child." Elthar sounded relieved. "It did not. It did, however, hit the ground close enough to harm you. And I must say, it did a good job of it." His master chuckled again, dryly. "You are no wizard, yet, Reyvn, but you *do* have quite an affinity for Black magic." Elthar touched Reyvn's forehead and then his cheek, checking his temperature. "Or perhaps I should say that Black magic has an affinity for *you*."

Reyvn nodded weakly. It was not the first time Elthar had told him that. It had been determined early in his schooling that Reyvn's talents leaned toward the Black arts. Manipulating the offensive powers of nature had always come much easier than trying to control the defensive or curative threads.

"Here," Elthar said, interrupting his thoughts. His master set the plate of food upon Reyvn's lap, and Reyvn wasted no time.

If he had doubted that Elthar had Healed him, his doubts were quelled when he found himself wolfing down the roast beef and bread as though he hadn't eaten in three days. He rolled the slices of beef and stuffed one after the other into his mouth, barely waiting until one was chewed and swallowed before popping in the next.

Elthar said nothing of manners; he did not frown disapprovingly, nor did he scold Reyvn for eating with his fingers. Curative magic was incredibly potent, and wizards with Elthar's ability could mend some of the most mortal wounds. However, healing spells also demanded strength from the one being healed. Thus, the cured suffered from ravenous hunger when the healing was done.

Reyvn choked on a piece of crust, and Elthar was suddenly patting and rubbing his back. "Chew, child, chew," he ordered softly. "The food isn't going anywhere."

Reyvn nodded, but didn't stop shoveling the food into his mouth until he'd finished the meal. Absently, he noted that there had been enough meat and bread to feed three men - and he'd eaten it all in less than ten minutes.

Elthar handed him a glass of water, and he accepted it graciously. He drank the liquid down in two huge gulps, and then set the empty glass on the bedside table.

"How do you feel?" Elthar asked after a moment.

"...Tired," Reyvn decided, "but all right."

"Well enough for a lecture?" Elthar asked wryly.

Reyvn swallowed. /I guess it will come sooner or later.../ "I suppose I am."

His master sighed affectionately. "Reyvn, Reyvn, Reyvn... What am I going to do with you? I'm not sure how much more my heart can take."

"Elthar, I really am sor--"

"You are always sorry," Elthar interrupted. "And I *know* you are sorry. I know. But, Reyvn, please, when are you going to learn that you cannot rush through this? Achieving the status of a wizard takes time - years."

Elthar's voice wasn't overly condescending, but Reyvn winced just the same. "I know."

"I can't say I don't appreciate your eagerness to learn. You're more interested in the craft than any other apprentice I've had. It is true that you are a fast learner, and it is true that you have incredible potential...but--"

"--When trying to control a compound element, make sure you are there to supervise," Reyvn finished, and then bit his lip. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to sound like..." He shrugged. "You know what I'm trying to say."

"Not just compound elements," Elthar clarified. "Creating your own lightning is one thing, summoning a powerful bolt from the sky is another... Reyvn, your problem is that you are far too eager to progress. Slow down, and take your time. You are young; you have more than enough time to master the art of magic."

"I know."

"You say that each time something like this happens," Elthar said dryly.

"...I mean it this time."

"You say that, too."

"I am a lost cause, aren't I?"

Elthar chuckled. "Far from, child. Far from. But *do* try to slow down. You're going to give this old man a heart attack."

Reyvn smiled. "Then will you teach me to call lightning from the sky?"

The old wizard rubbed his temples. "I will consider it. If lightning bolts are going to be running amuck all over Hiberia, I may as well be there to stop them."

Despite the dry humor in his master's voice, Reyvn made a face. "Hey! I *did* regain control of it..."

"It could have killed you."

"It wouldn't be the first time I've come close to the Inferno..."

Elthar shook his head, but there was a small smile on his lips - one that was threatening to become a wide grin. "You'll be the death of me, yet," he said again.

"Thank you," Reyvn said suddenly, realizing that he hadn't yet thanked the wizard for healing him. "Thank you for...curing me."

"All part of my duties, Reyvn. Think nothing of it." Elthar stood and straightened his gray robes. The silver fringe glittered in the rays of sunlight that were peeking through the curtains. "Now you rest. It will be a while longer before you are strong enough to rise."

"But I have to clean the library," Reyvn protested. He grinned sheepishly when Elthar raised an eyebrow. "I was up late last night, reading through many of the books... When I grew too tired to keep my eyes open, I left them all on the desk and went to bed."

His master chuckled again. "The library can wait a few hours, until you get your strength back." He turned and strode across Reyvn's rather spacious bedroom, and stopped at the door. "And once the library is back in order, I'd like you to dust my study. I should be finished in there by then."

Reyvn sighed quietly. A little punishment for him, he supposed. Elthar's study was unbearably tedious to dust. The wizard had literally dozens of vials and trinkets on shelves that had to be lifted and dusted under. "Yes, Elthar."

"That's my boy," Elthar laughed, and left the room.

When his master was gone, Reyvn wiggled until he was lying prone on his bed again. He yawned, hugely, and turned on his side to snuggle further into the pillow and covers. With his belly warm and full of delicious food, he was ready to go back to sleep.

A soft growl came from just outside his room, and Reyvn made a quiet noise of acknowledgement. He opened his eyes and realized that Elthar had left the door open, and in the hall stood the wizard's familiar.

"Come in, Stalker," Reyvn invited.

The tiger entered slowly, his golden eyes seeming to glow even in the daylight, his muscles rippling as he walked toward the bed. The sight of such an imposing animal might have frightened anyone else. But Reyvn knew better. Stalker was Elthar's familiar; he was a friend, an ally, an unyielding pillar of loyalty and support.

"Came to check on me?" Reyvn mused.

<...Not quite,> the tiger replied.

Reyvn took a moment to let the rumbling timbre of Stalker's baritone wash over him. He'd always loved Stalker's voice. "...Does that mean you don't care?" he teased.

<You know it isn't that, either.> The large cat sat on the floor at the edge of Reyvn's bed and cocked his head.

"So you've come to give me the Speech?"

Stalker began without answering the question. <Master Elthar cares for you a great deal, you know. You should respect his wishes - and the teachings of wizardry - and go at the pace that has been made for you.>

"I try," Reyvn sighed. "I do try, despite what you and Elthar may think."

<When he felt the sudden force of your spell... Reyvn, he is not a young man any longer, but he was barreling down the tower and out to the cliff as fast as he could...>

The declaration made Reyvn feel worse about his failure. "I really thought I could do it," he admitted softly.

<Pace yourself,> Stalker advised. <You've been here for five years... What harm is there in remaining here for another year or two?>

"It's not that," Reyvn assured. "It's..." He trailed off, and made a vague gesture. "You know..."

<...You can't let that bother you, anymore,> the tiger said after a pause. <I understand that it's hard for you...but you cannot keep thinking of it as some sort of...deficiency. You don't have to prove yourself worthy of being called a real man, Reyvn.>

It was a familiar speech; Reyvn could think of at least a dozen other instances that ended with Stalker speaking those same words to him. But still, no matter how often he heard them, he couldn't help but feel the way he did.

"I..." He stopped to swallow, "...I *am* a man, Stalker. I know I am. I just...have to make sure everyone else knows it, too..."

For a moment, the tiger said nothing. But then he shook his large head, looking a tad disappointed. <Reyvn...if you believe you must force the rest of the world to accept you for who you are...then perhaps you haven't yet accepted yourself.>

Those words stung a little, and Reyvn felt himself wince. He rolled away from the familiar's piercing gaze and huddled under the blankets.

"...I'm still very tired."

It wasn't much of an excuse, but Stalker knew him well, and accepted it. <Sleep well, Reyvn.> He listened to the sound of the tiger's paws padding along the floor, and heard the rest of Stalker's reply as the familiar entered the hallway. <You'll need a good deal of energy to dust Elthar's study later on...>

"Don't remind me," Reyvn mumbled into his pillow. But a smile formed on his lips. A tedious chore, yes, but nonetheless an important part of Elthar's routine. A wizard was not supposed to have a dusty study. And a tidy study was the very least Reyvn owed to Elthar.

By late afternoon, Reyvn had deemed himself well enough to rise from bed, dress, and go about his chores. The library had been relatively easy to tide; all he'd had to do was return the books he'd been reading to their proper shelves, and dust the tables.

Elthar's study was another matter entirely.

Being a wizard's apprentice wasn't an easy task - that much was certain. It seemed like a wondrous privilege, to have a master of magic teach one the secrets of the arcane arts. Reyvn had been one of many children who had gathered in the village square to watch amateur magicians set cloths afire, or create flowers. He had also been one of those who had squealed about how amazing it would be to have that kind of talent.

Then Reyvn had been given the opportunity to learn that incredible ability...and he'd discovered that there was a lot of work involved.

...And despite his love and fascination with the art of magic, Reyvn had not attended Elthar's Choosing because he'd wanted to be the wizard's apprentice. He had been more or less cajoled into it by his parents. To this day, Reyvn wondered if they had done so for his own protection, or if they'd simply wanted to get rid of him.

He'd been - was - fairly certain that Amon and Eleria Cairean were not particularly proud of their son. They had been tolerant of his lack of interest in farming, which had been his family's tradition for as long as he could remember. They had graciously fed him new books and maps to satisfy his hunger for knowledge about the rest of the world - not that the few books his small village's library had taught him much. That was one of the things he disliked about living in the backwater corner of Hiberia; they were all but completely cut off with the rest of the world. The other villagers didn't mind their isolation; most were simple farming families whose roots were too deep into the grounds to consider leaving. They thought magic was dangerous and frightening, but they also found it fascinating and respected those who wielded it.

He'd always known he was a little different from the boys in his village, but as Reyvn grew from a small boy to a young man, he discovered something about himself that deemed him...*very* different.

He was indesto. [1]

It was a nearly non-translatable word, derived from some old tongue he'd never heard of. But essentially, it meant that he was sexually attracted to men, and not women.

He'd told his parents first, and they had been speechless. His father had looked a little disgusted, and his mother had been quick to instruct him not to reveal his "preference" to anyone else. She had said that "his kind" was not "normal" and the other villagers may not take kindly to him. Then she had sent him to his room.

That night, he'd heard his parents discussing him. He hadn't been able to hear the entire conversation, but he caught snippets of "Maybe it's just a phase", "Did we raise him wrong?" and "I don't want anyone finding out about this".

Reyvn had been baffled by his parents' reactions. He hadn't known why they'd been taking it so easily. Just because he was attracted to other boys didn't mean he was attracted to *every* boy he came across. He had not been ashamed of it; it was part of who he was, and others, he figured, would accept it without much more than a quirk of an eyebrow.

He'd been wrong.

Over the next couple of years, he'd developed a growing affection for one of his friends, Erik. And when he'd decided to act on his feelings, on that fateful day in the woods...

At first, Erik had been too startled to resist the gentle kiss. Soon, though, the other boy became enraged and had flung him away, had called him names, had shook a fist at him before turning and storming out of sight.

Reyvn had been confused - utterly confused. His feelings had been hurt, and he hadn't been sure if he'd ever be able to face Erik again. He'd returned to the village that night only because his parents would have worried about him.

He hadn't expected to find himself surrounded by the other boys of his village, and he hadn't expected them to attack him. Only the sudden intervention of several fathers had saved Reyvn from worse injury.

From that day on, none of the children would play with him, and few would associate with him - even if he were alone with them. The adults tolerated him, however difficult it was for them, but rarely gave him any notice.

Reyvn suspected that his parents had either feared for his safety or could no longer stand the sight of him, and so when word had come that Elthar of Moonbrooke was coming to choose an apprentice, Amon and Eleria had all but dragged him to the town square. Reyvn had been both nervous and excited. He hadn't really planned on ever trying out, and he was certain that the other children would laugh at him, but...he'd been alone and shunned for so long, he was beginning to long for some sort of change. Elthar didn't live very far from the village - he inhabited the tower over the sea - but it would still be something of a fresh start. He remembered realizing that he'd miss his parents, but they didn't appear to hold any great amount of affection for him, anymore.

He hadn't been the only youngster at the square that day. There had been many children and adults, either as spectators or participants, and not all of them had been native to his village. Some appeared to have traveled from other villages when they'd heard of Elthar's Choosing. Reyvn had felt a little intimidated by the skill some of the other potential apprentices had shown. One girl had made a flower grow out of a pot of soil she had brought, and a young man had held up a stick and had caused its tip to ignite. Several others had performed amateur tricks, all wanting to be chosen.

When Reyvn's turn had come, he'd stood before the chair Elthar had been given - the finest one in town - with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. For a few moments, Elthar had said nothing. When a considerable amount of time had passed, the wizard had cocked his head and asked, "And what is it you intend to do, child?"

And Reyvn had replied, "...I have no spell to cast, nor any trick to perform."

Elthar had seemed to consider it, and then said, "Do you have an interest in magic?"

"Very much so, my Lord," Reyvn had answered. "But I know nothing."

"Then you will learn."

Reyvn had been shocked at the sudden acceptance, and he hadn't been the only one. There had been no words uttered, but the expressions on the others' faces had spoken for them. They hadn't understood why Reyvn had been chosen after exhibiting such a lack of talent, but the choice was Elthar's, and they'd wisely kept silent.

An hour later, Reyvn was packing all he owned, bidding farewell to his parents, and climbing atop the extra horse Elthar had brought with him. Then, Elthar, Reyvn, and Stalker the tiger had left Reyvn's hometown, and had never looked back.

Idly, as he lifted a heavy textbook to wipe the dust under it, Reyvn wondered what his parents were doing at the moment. Did they ever think about him anymore? Did they wonder how he was doing? Not once had they attempted to contact him, though Elthar had assured them that they could if they wished.

And though he wondered...he wasn't sure if he cared, anymore. He hadn't belonged in that small, close-minded town, and since coming to stay with Elthar, he'd learned that he *did* have the talent to learn magic. He was, he decided, much better off living with the wizard and his familiar.

As he set the book down, a strange sense trickled down his spine. It was odd to describe what it felt like... It wasn't quite a shudder, just a sudden thrum of awareness that tickled the part of him that was always in touch with his magic.

He raised his head, searching for the source of the strange feeling. His eyes fell on the mirror hanging on the opposite wall, and they widened. The oval-shaped mirror, with the lovely silver border adorned with a leaf design, was glowing. It pulsed like a heartbeat, a faint purple glow that appeared first in the center of the mirror, and then spread to the edges, fading as it traveled, and disappeared into the border only to reappear in the center once again.

Reyvn had never seen it before, and it made him a little uneasy. He hadn't done anything to make any sort of device in the room react, had he? He hadn't even touched his magic... What had happened?

The pulsing glow quickened, and Reyvn swallowed. He backed up away from the table and cleared his throat.

"Elthar!" he called. "Elthar, come quickly!"

He didn't know how to stop whatever it was the mirror was doing, nor did he feel as though he should try.

It was only a few moments after he'd shouted that Stalker tore into the room. The tiger came to a halt, muscles tensed, looking ready for anything. His golden eyes fell on Reyvn, who realized he had backed himself against the other wall, and then on the mirror. The familiar shook his head a little, and then aimed that gaze back at Reyvn.

"I didn't touch it," Reyvn said, feeling as though he had to make that clear. "It just...happened."

Stalker chuckled, the low laugh rippling through Reyvn's mind.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

"Reyvn!" came Elthar's concerned voice, and seconds later, his master appeared in the doorway, searching him out. "What happened?"

Before Reyvn could explain, Stalker's amused baritone brushed his mind. <Your mirror, Elthar.>

The wizard looked immediately to the glowing glass, blinked at it, and then chuckled. "Oh, Reyvn...there is nothing to fear."

"What is it?" he asked, already feeling better now that Elthar had assured him all was well.

"You mean I've never shown it to you?" When Reyvn shook his head, Elthar shrugged and went on to explain. "It is what we call a 'Mirror of Message'. It is a tool we use to communicate with one another across long distances. Much more effective than a carrier pigeon, is it not?"

"'We'?"

"Other wizards and myself. Any wizard is capable of it, provided they know where one of their friends is."

"So...it isn't dangerous?"

Elthar chuckled. "No, Reyvn, not at all. Now then," he clapped Reyvn on the shoulder and ushered him to the door, "I can't have you eavesdropping on my conversations, now can I?"

"I wouldn't do that," Reyvn replied, already on his way out of the study.

"I won't be long," the wizard promised. "Wait here until I've finished my conversation, and then you can complete your chores."

"Yes, Elthar," Reyvn said, but the mage was already closing the door.

Even though Elthar had said he wouldn't be long, Reyvn was left standing in the hall for an indeterminate amount of time. He itched to lean his ear against the door and try to catch a snippet of the conversation, but he would not go against Elthar's wishes. He and his friend were probably discussing matters that did not yet concern him.

To occupy himself, he scuffed his feet against the floor, he stretched, he fidgeted, he hummed songs from his childhood...until at last, the door to the study opened and Elthar came out.

"How--" Reyvn started, but Elthar brushed past him and started heading down the hall to the stairs. "Elthar?" he called after his master.

A heavy weight brushed against his legs, and he looked down to see Stalker trotting along after the wizard.

"Stalker?" Reyvn called. "Stalker, what happened?" But the tiger didn't even glance at him, and instead continued to follow Elthar up the stairs.

After a moment, Reyvn followed, as well.

He followed Elthar and his familiar up the flight of stairs and down the other hall until they came to Elthar's personal chambers. Elthar and Stalker entered, but the door had shut before Reyvn even had a chance to catch up.

And so he waited again, and when Elthar exited nearly two hours later, Reyvn was still standing there.

Reyvn found his voice. "Elthar, what happened?"

The wizard shook his head. "Forgive me, Reyvn." He took hold of Reyvn's left shoulder and squeezed it tight. "I didn't mean to be rude to you..."

"I didn't think you were r--"

"Reyvn, I am sorry, but I must go."

"Go?" Reyvn echoed. "Go where?"

"A friend is in need," Elthar explained, "and I must go to him. Stalker will remain here with you."

/But.../ Elthar never traveled without his familiar... "Elthar, I--"

"You will remain here and keep on with your studies. Stalker will guide you. I will try to return as soon as I can."

"I..." Reyvn swallowed. Elthar seemed so...uneasy...and when Elthar was uneasy, Reyvn felt *unbearably* uneasy. "Is your friend in danger?"

"In a matter of speaking..." Elthar evaded. "Reyvn, I must go. There is no time for me to explain." He took Reyvn's hands and pressed something into his palm. "If I do not return in three months, enter my personal chambers. Stalker will show you what to do."

"Elthar..." Reyvn swallowed again, and looked at the object he'd been given. It was a key to Elthar's room. "I... Be careful," he said at last, but when he looked up, his gentle, kind teacher was already making his way down the stairs. "Please be careful," he said, softly, to himself. But it was directed at Elthar.

He made to follow, but Stalker's voice halted him.

<Do not go after him... It is hard for him to leave you as it is.>

/Why can't I go with him, at least?/ "Why aren't you going with him?"

<...I have a more important duty, according to Elthar.<

Reyvn didn't answer. He made his way to one of the windows in the hall and looked out at the vast plains they lived in. He stared for a few minutes, unmoving, and then his eyes widened as a dark shape on horseback - Elthar - rode away from the tower. It took a few minutes for his master to ride out of sight, but once Reyvn could no longer see him, he turned away from the window and sank to the floor. He looked down at the key in his hand, up at the door to Elthar's room, and then back at the key. For a moment, he considered going against Elthar's word and using it to enter the wizard's room and unearth the mystery...

He pocketed the key, and noticed Stalker nod approvingly. Reyvn shrugged. "He is my mentor," he mumbled in reply to Stalker's unspoken praise. "My mentor, caregiver, master... If he wishes me to wait...I'll wait, I suppose."

His head was spinning a little, and he was *very* confused. The entire incident had happened so quickly, so abruptly... One second, Elthar had been prepared to have a lively chat with an old friend, the next he was taking off on a journey to the gods knew where...

"Do..." Reyvn rubbed the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. "...Do you think he'd mind...if I finished dusting the study later...?"

And then Stalker was with him, nudging Reyvn with his big, furry head, nuzzling him with his big nose. <No...I don't think he'd mind at all...>