Lost Creek Hollow i've known mornings white as diamonds

For all the stress that bore down upon him, Mordecai managed to shed the majority of it by the time he returned to the quaint little den that he shared with Harlyn. While her own comings and goings may have begun to pick up, he knew that she was far from ready to fully return to the so-called daily grind. He did not burden her with the thoughts that coursed his mind on an increasing basis and rather reveled in the fact that for a time, at least for now, his children were too small to understand let alone worry over the dangers that lied outside of their relatively safe home.

And on a day such as the one he was presently in, Mordecai also reveled in dipping in and out of sleep. In spite of all that troubled him, he found that he still delved easily into such simple pockets as rest, though questionably one could have wondered if he truly rested at all. He believed he did, but each day felt as exhausting as the last and at times, perhaps overstimulating. But if there was one thing that he could not help and stir to was the faintest of sounds — the shuffle of feet still too young to entirely know the way out.

He cracked his one good eye open for a moment, fighting against the fluttering motion of sleep that still dared to take a hold of him just enough to catch Silas toddling along. The puppies grew more noticeably and as he had found, their ability to see their world only rocketed them forward in their growth. His head bobbed as he righted himself, stretched in a failing attempt to distract his son who had already long passed his father. It left Mordecai to rise ever so slightly, sneaking along the floor and sweeping his muzzle to direct him elsewhere.