Qeya River Little ones, Little ones

For the most part, Ksura was happy as a lark to simply follow the decisions made by others. He continued his usual routines which didn’t vary much from day to day, and while the scenery had changed, his roles had not. As a packmate, he tended to the borders and as a father, he tended to his family- though he’d begun to discover that simply supplying food wasn’t enough. 

Darrow did not tolerate the change well, and he was beginning to sense that Ash Star and Acantha might not have agreed whole-heartedly with the change either. 

He didn’t feel it was his place to say so- but he was relieved that they were no longer living in a place where some wild father might appear and threaten their peace again. Did he resent Wren for uprooting the pack? He wasn’t sure. If he did, it was likely because he wondered if Ash Star felt that way.

He could hear Darrow’s protests as he returned to their new settlement with a sizeable trout, its scales shimmering like a rainbow in the light. Ash Star sought to calm him, but he wondered if her son voiced her own thoughts. 

He chuffed to the boy, and set the fish down, placing a paw on it momentarily as if to keep it to himself- an unusual trait for the man who often only ate out of sight of the others. He wanted to maintain the image that he was a provider first, after all. 

He clicked his tongue. ”You might change your mind, kiddo,” He said, eyes glistening. ”-If- I let you try a piece of this special fish that I caught from the river.”