King Elk Forest second breakfast

The silver male had been doing some hunting in the forest, hoping to bring some food back to the pack. He hadn't yet gone to meet Rowan's children, but he did leave food for Spring to take to them. He was, most likely, being overly cautious but the whole Amber incident had also proven distracting. He missed his friend and even more hated that Spring had suffered another loss. He hoped that Amber found what she was looking for, found happiness and family. His mind was full of thoughts of the alpha Ciel sister, however, as he wandered the forest.

He was attracted to her. That was easy enough to admit. What troubled him was the desire to pull away before the attraction deepened. A piece of him longed to linger near her daily, to hear her voice and smell her scent. The other piece wanted to bid her farewell and shove off, to save himself from the boulder that he was sure would soon fall onto his head and heart once more. It was a selfish desire, a cowardly desire, and he was disgusted by the idea. He liked Silver Creek outside of his attraction for Spring, and the thought of leaving his bromance with Casmir was just as heart wrenching. No. He would stay, he would grow attached. And if his heart was meant to be torn and destroyed again, he'd just be sure that he died in the fight with it.

"It wouldn't be exactly the same as last time." He reminded himself. Spring certainly wouldn't betray her own pack. He had, at least, saved himself from that very specific form of heartache. He sniffed idly, walking slowly but doing more thinking than tracking. He was drawn from his thoughts by a voice, a small voice. For a moment he wondered if it was Laurel and his head snapped up. He saw, instead, a smaller pup than Laurel could be now. It was staring at something and he turned to look himself. The sight of the fox made his heart seize in his chest. A fox could eat a pup, couldn't it? Kill it at the least. Without a thought he swiftly surged forward to stand near the pup. His eyes did not leave the fox, but he was aware of his feet and their proximity to the pup. 

He thought not of a potential mother nearby, only of keeping the fox away. So he planted himself firmly over the pup and silently raised his lip at the fox, eyes narrowed. It was only after his promise of death had been satisfactorily conveyed did he finally glance towards the small floof. 

"Careful there, kid." He said calmly, warmly. He thought to comment on not talking to strangers, but as he himself was a stranger he quickly dashed the idea. "Things like that can be scary. Gotta stay away from them, you hear?" His voice was soft, an attempt at being reassuring. "What's your name? I'm Heston." As he stood over the boy he could smell him clearly. He smelled of milk, or course, and of sleep as well. A nostalgic scent that sent images of his mother to his mind. Most importantly, and of less reminder of Heston's mother, he smelled of Rowan. "Where's your Momma, hm?" He was sure she was near, and he felt a prickling of unease at being so close and so, from a distance, potentially threatening looking to the pup. Yet, he feared the fox too much to move away and feared Rowan's anger too much to attempt to pick the boy up.