Sun Mote Copse Everybody hates Monday mornings.

for a moment towhee's fangs were sheathed. in that brief second arcturus dared not let down his guard -- which was good, for when the mother saw where arcturus' gaze ended, she bared her teeth again.

instinctively the male turned away, eyes averted -- though he caught the child's smile and raised forepaw. it took all of his willpower to not grin or offer a (mystified) wave of his own, but something about towhee's demeanor told him that was not a bad idea.

did he feel relieved? did he believe her? arcturus felt a rush of feelings, but none he could place a finger upon. if it wasn't his, whose? he had learned not to be naive enough (thx towhee) to believe he was the only male she had seen during her season.. still, that split second where he considered if he was the father put a lot of floating jigsaw puzzles about his identity firmly into place.

"what is her name?" he tried for something a bit less tense of a subject, though he wondered if he should just collect his hare and go before display became action, and towhee sent his ass running.