Firefly Glen When Doves Cry

Katmai made a sweeping gesture, mischief in his eyes. "By all means," he encouraged, "I can see that you will be a benevolent ruler."

Surprise briefly stole over his features when she spoke her father's name. He hadn't known that Alaric had children, and indeed, had never even set eyes on the man. But!

"My father, Dutch, knows yours!" he told her, his tail wheeling again. Something else occurred to him, and his voice was once more teasing: "He spoke often of how clever and handsome he is."

Like father, like daughter, he wanted to say. But also: like father, like son!

"My father once led Moonsong, but it, too, fell apart. My brother and my sisters and I grew up at Moontide — which has also fallen apart."

His smile was a little sad, now — but it was still very much a smile.

"You don't travel with him," he said, curiously. "Are you — dispersing?"

He said it almost as though it were a naughty word, and one he wasn't sure he ought to be using. Dispersal carried a certain weight to it. It meant that one was not just out and about, but gone — and in search of something new.

Was that what he was doing?