Bearclaw Valley on the nature of daylight

Bearclaw's youngest hadn't escaped Lucas' attention, but he'd admittedly been too wrapped up in his own pursuits and the newness of the rendezvous to spend any time in the cub's company. But when a high-pitched yapping woke him from a mid-morning nap, the hunk of an Arctic pup couldn't ignore it. Not only was Merrick's racket kind of endearing, but it tugged sharply at the empath's heart strings. He rose from his place near the shallow river, shook out his thick (and thickening) coat, and headed off at an awkward waddle-swagger in Merrick's direction on rapidly lengthening limbs. In the midst of his growth spurt, Lucas didn't know how to carry his rotund figure anymore, it seemed.

It wasn't hard to imagine what had happened; his icy gaze bounced between the deer hide and the fallen pup, and he couldn't help but to warmly giggle. "Hey, lil man," he said, coming to a stop just next to Merrick's rufous shoulders. He swept his muzzle down to Merrick's teary face, snuffling in his friendly way, before sitting down heavily. He hadn't noticed just how big he was getting, but it was alarming how much smaller Merrick seemed than him. "Tell me wha' happened," he prompted, giving Merrick every opportunity to salvage his wounded pride by telling the tale himself.