Phantom Hollow A blizzard night

Shale watched her make her den, smiling as she did so. She was fastidious, neat, arranging everything just so. Her organized nature made her a good leader, a great medic.

He was drawn to her. He didn't know why, or how, yet--only that he simply was. Romantically? Platonically? Familially? She was several seasons his junior, yet several ranks his better. What she had revealed to him about Murdock made him all the more wary. . .but he couldn't deny he had started to form an attachment to the woman.

Seeing her make tonight's bed reminded him of something, his stomach sinking. Of red flowers, vivid against the stark white of snow.

He sat, curling his tail around his paws. "Poppy," he remarked, as casually as if they were discussing the weather. "That was my daughter's name." It hurt, hurt so badly to say it aloud, but he felt he must. He felt he must.