They had new pups. He had not met the mother but assumed that they were Mal's. Lucky him, to have pups so young. When Yao returned home he supposed that would be his next duty — to sire pups of his own. Such things could wait. He barely felt like an adult, let alone a father.

He can still care for pups, even if they were not his own or related to him. He brings a hare to the whelping den, its legs swinging against his face as he trots towards the milky and still-bloody scent. He isn't alone in visiting the newborns, but the other visitor is a lot younger than he expected. He places his tribute near the opening of the den, huffing softly to whoever was within, then turns to the little one tottering outside. Hallo, he smiles at the child. It was an odd-looking child, with his red eyes and the strange shapes on its body, but it was a child of his pack, no matter how weird it seemed to Yao.

It is not for me, he began to say, only to see the brown-and-cream pup toddling towards the hare. Or for you! He said, scooping the child away from the carcass. It's for the mama and the  watoto.

He smiled at the child, for all his odd appearances, he was a child. Small ones, child, baby. He nudged the child with his paw. Like you, He said, smirking. What's your name? He asked, though what he really wanted to know was who was his parents.

He chuckled at the child's exclamation. Children were always a delight for him — he wanted some of his own one day but that was a discussion for further down the road — so he reveled in the innocent happiness that the boy exclaimed. In time — they're still very small. 

Baby talk between languages was hard. In his own tongue, a child might have said their own name differently — Yao had no idea that an r was to replace the w that the boy intoned. Caewoos, Yao tried to say. My name is Haoniyao, he said his name slowly, hoping that the Caewus was able to repeat it.

It took you a while to get this big, he smiled. It won't be long for them. Long in the scope of a child's mind, perhaps. 

Caewus, Yao corrected himself. He hesitated. Children weren't allowed to speak out to elders like this, not where he came from. It felt wrong for him to chide the child, the consequences of doing so (especially since he did not know the child's parentage). I like your name too, he said. Though unfamiliar to him, it was nice to say.

What are your parents' names? he asks, genuinely curious. 

Cae,  samahani It was obvious that he was saying something wrong. He was surprised to hear that Mal was the child — Cae's — father. Yao looked him over again, trying to find the resemblance, only to stop suddenly. Dads? he repeated, immediately confused. He had not heard of such a thing before. Even a widower would find a woman to nurse his orphaned offspring, but two men? Then who nurses you?