Dawnlark Plains isbjørn

Aditya's words struck a chord in the father's mind. Something he didn't quite like to admit bubbled up onto his tongue, and he couldn't keep himself from saying it aloud to his friend. "I favor her - I know I do," he said, shame covering his features. "Not in love, of course. I love them all so much. But perhaps I stand Dawn up in front of them without realizing."

It was not that Dawn was the perfect child. She'd been a thorn in his side when she was young, and even now, was the cause of much worry and consternation for the man. To date, none of the rest of his children had been as frightfully willful as Dawn, even with Sunny's flight of independance in Easthollow. But she was wonderful, and every time he looked at her, he knew that he glowed with pride and satisfaction.

"All my children seem to have trouble believing my pride in them," he said, his dissatisfaction over this state of affairs made clear by his tone.