Swiftcurrent Creek if you spent your whole life working

She leaned into his warmth, and as his song faded, he bent down, hoping to soothe her with nudges and affection along her head and cheeks. Her ministrations were gentle—apologetic, it felt, and he slowly reclined to sit, hoping she did not feel less by his actions. Instead, he nosed at her ear, and very softly whispered to her. “It’s not me you seek,” he offered. “I’m not a good father. I’m not a good man.”

And he would leave it at that.