Redhawk Caldera [aw] another dawn

Eljay knew very little about Kukutux, and it seemed that it was a boon rather than a disadvantage in this case. Maia spilled out her worries, clearly weighed down by knowing things that he knew very little about. How many of Kukutux' children stayed in her pack, for example (and if it was truly as many as Maia thought — the grass easily looks greener on another's lawn, but was it really the way Maia had observed it to be? this, he kept to himself, though). Perhaps it was age catching up to him or perhaps he was finally learning, but Eljay found it difficult to let these same worries be evoked in him. Yes, he wished to have more of his children here. He loved being a grandfather. It put a spring back in his step and a light in his eyes. However, he was grateful just to have those that stayed. Just to have Sylvie, and Ceridwen, and Chickadee returned.

His experience was that wolves needed to find their own way in life. In his case, it was to stay close to home all his life. For a long time, he never understood why anyone would want differently. But then he met Maia and he himself had moved away willingly from the Caldera. It had given him some understanding, at least, that sometimes a place isn't enough. Family isn't enough, he supposed — for some. He just hoped that wherever they were, they were happy.

You shouldn't doubt yourself so much, Eljay said, surprisingly firm. What Kukutux or her children do has nothing to do with you. You are a wonderful mother. Different wolves have different needs in life, and our children just aren't the same as us. That's nothing to do with you, and I'm sure that our children would agree wholeheartedly, wherever they are. So don't blame yourself for anything. He then smirked and said, a bit more light-heartedly: If anything, you should blame my side of the family. My mother passed on some tenacious explorer genes.