Ocean's Breath Plateau bajrangi bhaijaan

once the children were settled, he sought out @Chakliux.

aditya was slowing down. each time he rose from slumber, his bones ached a little more, and his joints took longer to work properly. he was stiff-legged even now as he looked for the man around the rendezvous—then, not finding him, he tipped his nose up and howled, and headed to the shore.

the old man paced along the surf, enjoying the feel of the waves against his ankles. he was slow and somewhat ungainly, though his eyes were still sharp. a question was burning in his chest, and he dared not speak it aloud until necessary.

there was much more to be done now that dutch's family had come to live in moontide. chakliux filled caches and hunted the sea daily; he searched for seals and organized hunting parties. he was tireless and yet exhausted, and his concern over marina's health grew.
when aditya called, the seal hunter was pulling in a kelpleaf of clams; he lodged it higher on the bank, out of reach of the surf, before he lifted his head. "you are well, father of dutch?"

chakliux was a battle-scarred young man, old wounds cutting clearly through his white pelt. still, he had a kind look to him, and aditya gave him a pleasant nod and a smile.

call me aditya, he replied. or adi, even. i'm well, chakliux—how are you?

talking to the man he'd heard much about just reminded him of the all-too obvious absence of his son. where was arjun? why had he gone? aditya grappled with the idea that he was hurt or dead out there, somewhere, and nothing to do about it.

his heartbeat grew faster, and he licked his lips in an attempt to keep the anxiety down.

"aditya. i am worried for dutch," chakliux said without preamble. there was another waiting kelp, but nothing was netted in its drifting leaves, and he looked up as he waded back to shore. 
shaking out his pelt, he regarded the other man with a somber expression. "it is not like him to have left this way. and when his children are so young." a long breath swelled chakliux, and now he looked toward the forest where morningside had stood.
no. it was unnatural. something had detained the panther.

you and me both, aditya replied, allowing the worry to finally bubble to the surface. his mouth pulled taut, his eyes turbulent. it's not like him. but it's like me, chakliux—and i worry that he's inherited the worst of myself.

he started to walk, shifting to the wet, packed sand so that he was not hindered in movement. chakliux, i was not a good father, he admitted. i never have been. i've been in and out, around, all over—i've not been the family man i needed to be.

adi glanced over to the white wolf. i never knew my father, either, he continued. and i—like i said, i worry that it's inherited. i worry that there's some sort of. . .curse in the bloodline.

he sniffed, taking a deep breath in. how are your children, chakliux? he asked, an emphasis on your that belied his knowledge of the multi-sire litters.

in the telling, chakliux heard the guilt of aditya's voice, and wondered somehow why the man took responsibility for this. this insinuation that dutch was somehow not as he presented himself rankled the seal hunter, but he made himself be silent and listen, padding alongside the tracks left by aditya in the sand.
a curse in the bloodline, of fathers who were not here.
"my children are well. kilalurak is much like me. chagak loves his mother and stays with her often. puffin is always asking one question or another. sea hunter is fierce, ah, his teeth are sharp! he and sirmiq fight one another among the lodges."
an exhale. "i see that you are here. you are a father. dutch thinks much of you. and your grandchildren are here." there was a chance to be so invested in family again. 
but now he wondered. was this curse real? would it manifest among his sons? he did not think so, because he did not think dutch had simply left. "he and i, i believe we would have left together, to form a pack another place. he held moonsong. i trust him." his voice was gentle. "seal hunter men love their wives and children."

at least the description of the children lightened the mood. he wondered which—if any—were of his blood. he supposed it didn't really matter. . .but he was curious.

i trust him, too, aditya responded. he felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow it, to no avail. he takes after his mother—and she's more loyal than anyone i've ever known. that's why i am worried.

he glanced at chakliux. i wonder if i need to go out to look for him, he posited. i'm looking after my niece's children now, too—i don't know if i can get away. but what if he's out there and needs help?

"i think you should," chakliux said, again employing the enjoyable sense of directness he felt with this father of dutch's own. "bring the young ones to us seal hunters. i will look after them there with the others. you go. then i will go."
that way there were eyes always searching for the panther and the pups too were tended. moontide now had so many of them that it was necessary to keep a constant patrol.

he looked at chakliux for a while as he spoke, pondering the idea. simbelmyne would be here, and other women, too. the children would be well taken care of. there was nothing to worry about.

adi drew in a deep, contemplative breath, then let it out on a troubled sigh.

okay, he said, nodding. i will go first. then you. and if neither of us can find him. . .

he let the alternative go unsaid. arjun could be missing—by accident or choice—or dead. at a certain point with him unfound, the rest of them would have to go on without the young man. 

which pained aditya to think about, because. . .how many times had others been forced to make this same choice when he'd vanished into thin air?

chakliux did not like if.
it hung between he and aditya, growing so poignant that soon he was forced to give a man's nod, a clearing of his throat.
raising a paw, he gently brushed the other's shoulder in a gesture of companionship, prepared to set off back toward the lodges if the father of the panther too was ready.
or if he would search now.