Duskfire Glacier who whispered the beauty of snow and the fear of death

Rye fought the urge to squeeze himself in the den and rest beside the new mother, fearing he may never leave for an entire fortnight. The woodland man knew, even at that moment, parting from Imaq in the morning would be an undertaking but the instinct to protect, preserve and nourish what laid in the den had grown stronger. Rye knew familiar faces would be met with the sting of distrust, or flat out rejection, and those unknown would certainly be met with utmost aggression. All the same, he welcomed his new drive as if it was long awaited for. The woodland wolf dare not risk the lives of what mattered to him and with that, he would not leave their side for a few days but to gather food or medicine if so desired.
As Rye nosed his babe for the umpteenth time, Imaqs words pulled at his ear, tugging it in her direction. At first the hotah let himself stay occupied with his son but as the merles words bloomed in his ears, he could not keep from looking at her. His tawny golds expressed concern for the tears shimmering in her eyes, the morning lights reflecting its hues within them, and for a moment his chest grew cold with anxious anticipation.

Then she offered him the world.

Words felt foreign in that moment, but not hers, the exuberance of the offer knocked loose some wires and they were damn hard to fix. The only word he could recall was, 'always' and he about said it but the final wire reconnected. Rye knew his answer, yet he feared Imaqs offer was not of her own volition. Their talk in the meadow halted any excitement fluttering in his belly. The doubts grew stronger as he recalled the traditions of her people and suddenly, he felt unsure. It felt different, starkly so against the average indecision or uncertainty that chaperoned wolves as they thought far into their future. No, his hesitancy carried a sickly weight to it. The hotahs expression faded into neutrality, not a speck or a twitch of emotion changed his face. Rye didn't want Imaq to feel obligated to him, although they shared a son, he could never force a marriage. She had said she would choose but the woodland man didn't want to risk anything. If he was to have a partner, he wanted them to be happy with him and with their lives above all else.
"Imaq, I don't want your decision to be based off of him." Rye gazed at the cub below for a moment, then returned to Imaq. "Or based off your traditions, I know you said you would choose but I only want to be sure." His voice was low, as tranquil as a nights breeze. "I want my wife to be happy, more than anything I want you to be happy.. Even if that means you're not with me." The tone changed, easing into a pain stricken somber timbre. Rye was more than capable of selfishness, prone to it even, but though he wholly desired to be with the she-dog, he could not bring himself to blindly accept. In his heart, mind, body and soul, did the hotah know she deserved the chance to have far more than he.