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Westward Bound had spent a lot of time with his mother as a child, but she'd never told him how worrying the job was. Parenting, he meant: he had not seen No Bloodstains for such months, and he was, quite frankly, worried. Perhaps the boy hadn't been ready for his apprenticeship journey after all...

No, Longclaw was his mentor, and Longclaw could exercise good judgment.

Still, though, he thought, as he walked along the shores of Blackwater. Still, none of the apprentices had ever been gone this long. Shameless and Flame of the West had come just nights after they'd left, and the group of six - well, they'd returned on time. Only...minus his own son. Well, he couldn't have expected them to stay together. Longclaw had said he was a meticulous hunter.

He'd known Beck (darling, darling Beck) wasn't ready. That was why she was still at his side. She'd be off soon, naturally, but - she'd be prepared.

He hadn't run, had he? He gazed without seeing into the deep pool of water, lost in thought.

A voice? Not his son's.

He turned, only to realize - oh. Of course he'd find their resident seer (or one of them, anyway - Owl Caller had always been the more reclusive one) here, of all places. "Ah - Burning Bush! I..." He trailed off.

"I'm thinking about my son," he admitted. West was quite unaware of how obvious he was being, but he was known as a bit of a bleeding heart (to his own mother's probable dismay - but he'd never even told her about Westfen. He'd never seen her again, since they'd parted ways.). "It's...hasn't it been a while?"

"Do they?" Westward Brown turned his head to watch her walk toward him, his mouth hanging open slightly. "How could they?"

He could not understand that smile - then again, he'd never much understood Burning Bush. She was certainly her own sort of doe, and that was something he'd never minded. Every kimeti had their place; that was one of Westfen's strengths. The other, of course, was that they could all come together to create a cohesive support unit.

"I...I don't remember what I said to him last." He could remember the ceremony clearly, though: No Bloodstains had left from, well, here. "And the Flower Festival! It's so soon."

"Is that - is that a question?"

Of course it was a question. He'd known that just as soon as it had left his mouth. "I mean, ah - well. Of course I trust Longclaw. He's so...I've known him for so long. I'd trust him with my life." He paused, scuffed at the ground. Swung his tail, a little agitated.

"And No Bloodstains...he's, ah, always been a little slow." Not mentally, of course - but he'd always taken his time. "But he's always done his job...exceedingly well."

(He'd become less oblivious with time. Probably.)

Ah, asking the hard-hitting questions. He couldn't say he didn't expect that from Burning Bush.

"I don't doubt them!" he said, affronted. "Well," he continued. "I mean, I just..." Why was he so uncertain? His first two children had returned on time, protective Flame and headstrong Shameless. Longclaw knew what he was doing.

"I suppose...it's what I should expect of No Bloodstains, isn't it?" he asked, a little hesitant. "He's always preferred that things are exactly as he expects."