Deepwood Weald histriophoca

Dutch bobbed his head in confirmation, only a little surprised that she remembered the name.

"Soon," he agreed, chalking the guess up to the scent he carried on his pelt. "Her name is Minnow. The babes will come any day, now. Valiant, too — his wife is with child. He's very pleased."

And Dutch was pleased for him, and blissfully happy with his own circumstances. He was even excited about Minnow's brood — how could he not be? Without the father around, he would be the nearest thing to it. Which meant he would likely get to meet them sooner than he would have otherwise. He would have to act as a spiritual father to them in his stead. What had Slow West called that relationship? Padrino, he thought. Nino.

He shrugged such thoughts away. There was no need to daydream when the reality of it would soon be upon them.

"What were you looking at?" he asked her, pointing his nose back up to the boughs of the tree.