Haunted Wood And When We Go Don't Blame Us

Clarence, too, was looking for any sign of the children. His sensitive ears flicked this way and that, trying to pick up on any sound of little pawsteps through the brush. But there was nothing - sound or scent or sight - that suggested a pup had been through there at all. 

The man continued talking - defining the feelings of love. "I... don't think I met my parents. I don't remember them," he admitted sheepishly. The first memories he had were of a plasticky contraption placed in his mouth to feed him tasteless liquid that would sustain him until he developed teeth. So he couldn't relate to that. His pack was another story - he was developing a sense of duty to them. To help.

The love of a mate. Santiago popped into his head again and Clarence went through a mental checklist of the feelings.
Feel safe with? Check.
Want to be with? Check.
Start a family? To be decided. 
Would do anything to see happy? Check. 
Fuzzy and dizzy? Check, check.
Losing him? He'd never thought of it, but it caused his stomach to drop when Memory said it, so... Check.
Who makes you happy? ...Check.

Uh oh.

"I think I might-" he began, then broke off when he saw the tear from Memory's eye. "Hey, wait, are you... what happened?" he asked frantically, ears pressed back.