Sun Mote Copse We get wild like a safari.

His eyes bore into her—the clipped response that came more like an order that they were absolutely not going to discuss the tiny whelp that resembled him more than her—shed a different light on the woman before him—and he wasn’t overly fond of what he was now witnessing.

His swarthy companion (friend? lover?) noted she didn’t want anything awkward being picked up by the whelp, and glancing down to catch Meerkat sidle toward him, crouched lower, allowed his shoulders to sag somewhat in defeat. Towhee was keen on not having this conversation with him, but if she thought he was going to simply walk away from this… she was wrong.

He lowered himself—the shadow of another encroaching upon them drawing his amber eyes up only momentarily to study Fig with slight recognition—for the boy had grown quite a bit since he had laid eyes on him in Asterism Grove, though the two had never formerly conversed.

The Ostrega instead watched the girl approaching him, unsure of what feeling of elation stirred in his chest at the mere sight of her. Had he and Towhee done this? She had told him nothing could come of their union—had she lied? He didn’t have any regrets on the matter—but he needed to show Towhee that he wasn’t just going to shirk responsibility. Maybe he could never be father of the year. But didn't he deserve a chance to try?

His form flattened closer to the earth, his nose tipping down to let the cinnamon pup investigate him, should she wish, whilst his own nose reached out to gently smell her. Milk. Towhee. All scents that signified home to him, which was a new realization.

“Hey, smallteeth,” he murmured, allowing her to investigate him and forcing himself to remain relaxed as he glanced back up to Towhee, waiting for Meerkat to not truly be paying attention before: “Why are you shutting me out of this?”