Of all her traumatized children, Bazi feared least for Whittier. Physically, he left a lot to be desired, but his fat suit extended to his brain - very little seemed to phase him that wasn't the absence of food and warmth, and she wondered if he would even remember the events of the Nova Peak fire when he grew up.
"What do you want to be when you grow up?" It was a grey day, and Bazi had nudged Whit into action with promises of food - all he had to do was follow her on morning rounds. She did not bother telling the boy that he was in training to become a warden; it would seem like work, and he would probably fight it. This way, everyone got what they wanted.
Whittier was actually quite pleased with their new home amongst the ferns. He couldn't have said what it was exactly that he liked so much about the forest for he had never really considered the why of it. Something about it just seemed... homey. He felt safe here, and the ferns themselves were a lot of fun for him to play in. Partner that with the fact that he still had his snuggly sleepy buddies and he continued to be well-fed, and he couldn't have even figured out what he didn't like about the place.
Unfortunately, this was not so for his beloved mother. Truth be told, Whittier had no idea she was discontent. He adored the crap out of her but he had yet to fully grasp the concept of empathy. So, as he waddled contentedly in his mother's wake, he was unaware that she was far less pleased than he was. Traipsing across the borders and peeing on stuff was actually a rather fun game to him, and so he was pretty distracted doing just that. Bazi's question pulled his attention away from his play, though, and he fixed her with a curious gaze.
"When I grow up?" he asked, confusion evident in his inflection, "I'm gonna be Whitty, right?" He didn't quite understand what she was trying to say. Was he going to change somehow when he grew up?
omg so dumb. Bazi smiled fondly at her son, in too good a mood (for once) to chastise him for being slow. "I meant," she teased, bumping his (just about) smaller body with her own. "What do you want to do? Daddy and Auntie Kaskara are wardens and warriors because they're big and strong, and Mommy.. well, Mommy makes up for being small with being a badass, so she's a warden too." Bazi grinned at her own hilariousness - clearly she was a very cool mother. "Or you can be an outrider, and go on adventures. I did that, before I had you." And maybe when she hated you a little bit and was having a personal crisis, but those days were over now. Sort of. They featured less in the grand total of days. "So? What do you like doing?"
Whittier really was rather dumb. He tried. He really did. Not enormously hard because that would have been exhausting, but enough that his effort was periodically noticeable. He listened as his mother explained what she'd meant by her comment, and slowly his clueless face took on a thoughtful glow. He liked the idea of being a badass like his mom, even though he wasn't entirely sure what that meant. Anything his mother did was clearly awesome, though.
Still, he really didn't know what to say when she asked what he liked doing. "Um..." Whit started, furrowing his brow as he pondered, "I dunno. I like markin' the borders. And I like breakfast... and hugs...." He felt oddly embarrassed about his uncertainty, and he lowered his head to stare at the ground between his paws as though fascinated by something there just to hide his face for a moment.