Duck Lake can't remember when it started

Although he'd anticipated this - had prepared himself for it - the male still couldn't help but draw in a sharp, unsteady breath at this confirmation. Mud. His father. The man he looked so like, save for being paler and ruddier than the late northern king. His body tensed, protesting against the speed at which he'd propelled himself to his paws. He took a hesitant step toward the girl - toward Mud's granddaughter, Day's child, Murdock's niece - before he could stop himself, and then swallowed back all the questions that where whirring in his mind.

"My father's name is Mud. And I had a brother named Grayday," he told her, his voice sounding strange and far away. "But he was lost to us when he was still young." His eyes traced over her face again, lingering a moment on her bright, tangy irises. "You look just like him," he said softly. And then, "Is he well?"