Northstar Vale My rusty wings are weak and tired, oh.

He could understand that. Boy, could he ever! After Camilla, he wasn't sure what to think. After Niamh, he'd thought he was cursed, and he still hadn't quite been able to shake that feeling. Even if he did end up courting some lady, who was to say she wouldn't end up dead, too? And yet his big dumb brain (and let's face it—other parts of him, too) insisted that he never really stop looking for another partner. Something, something, instinct.

-Easily done for a little while,- he said, patting her on the head with the paw she wasn't laying on. -And hey, I'll always be around to raise whatever kids come around after you inevitably get knocked up.- That was a promise Phox fully intended on sticking to.