Golden Glade Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?

Alder payed less attention to Rose than he should have, but to his credit his massive paws slowed, even stopped, when her own tiny ones did. The breaks were usually brief and, while slightly annoying at the slow pace, rather cute.

He hadn't been there when the Chaspen Brood had opened their eyes, but it seemed for at least his youngest son, he could be.

                     "A strong boy, clearly. Good job, Bramble."

The boy seemed odd, but then again most newborns were, well.... Potatoes. The Brood had been painfully boring in their first weeks -- still were, a little -- yet the brute found himself tirelessly and endlessly working for them and his wife. Tail still wagging behind him, smile lighting his face, Alder reached slowly down to the boy, breathing a gush of hot air over the boys spine moments before reaching to smooth the lifted hairs. At this, his brow forrowed in worry, confusion -- had he been away from Heartha too long? Was he sick?

                                                                  "Is he cold?"

When he looked up to Heartha, however, he saw the little russet girl headed for her half-siblings nest. What she wanted was lost on the father, and he grunted in dissaproval before reaching his jaws out, intent on gently grasping the girl by the torso in order to bring her close to his own chest. There, she could stay out of trouble and be warm.... If he could only get her.