Silver Creek Pencils and Pens

Her words made pride blossom in his chest, pride that he wasn't afraid to show. He grinned and nodded. "I thought so." He was pleased to hear of Spring's parentage being the same, though he could have guessed at that by the way she'd spoken of them before. "It's not your fault that he did what he did." He meant Zander, of course. He fixed her with a sympathetic look. "You just have to find someone as earnest as you, and sometimes that's hard to do." His last words were serious and he watched her a moment, making sure she heard him. 

They fell silent again, lost in their thoughts. Was she thinking of Zander or her parents? His mind was full only of her, of what she might be thinking. He felt no sense of jealousy towards Zander, he had no doubts that the brute was far from Spring's affections. Instead he felt a kind of transferred anger, upset that the brute had hurt Spring the way he had. Upset that the male hadn't been there for Hazel.

His ears perked at her voice and he found himself grinning. Her parents names were good names, he wondered if Pine had been the reason for her being named Spring. His parents culture, the small pack they'd been in, all named children with the same technique. It was for this reason that he bore his smile. "My father was named Hessar. My mother was named Catonia. I had two brothers: Harto and Hintar. And a single sister, Cassia. It was traditional in their pack to name the children a name formed by both the parents names, you see. And so I am Heston. If you ask me, I got the best of the names." He smirked, though soon after conceded with a small shrug. "My sister had a fair name was well, I'll give her that."

"Were you named for Pine?" His interest was piqued here, did Spring have any naming conventions she followed for children? He tried to play off his interest, tried to pretend it didn't have to do with attraction to her. After a moment, he pointed out a difference between their ways, smiling softly. "You have a last name, though, a surname. We didn't have those because our names bore our parents in them directly. Within the pack, and a couple nearby, you could tell who was who's pup just by their name." He was proud of this cultural quirk, even as a child he'd fantasized about the day he would pass pieces of his name to children.