Life, as they often said, finds a way. There was no better proof of that in Swiftfell than in the boom of births that had happened seemingly one after the other. Dusk Owl was an old paw at births, but his specialty had always been in caring for the elderly; this was...less required at the moment, however, and so he did his best to teach the new generation of healers when he could. While he could not explain certain things, such as the ever-trying duo of Sparrow and Rain Song producing blue tinted children, Dusk Owl had long since recognized that there would always be a great many things he didn't know about the mysteries of life, no matter how much of a science many like him had pinned and broken it down into. Certainly, there was no equation for the happiness each litter brought.Well, mostly brought. You occasionally had your strange seeds (for he refused to call them bad) such as Huckleberry Horizon but, well, there was only so much one could do to steer them well. Some, it would seem, were quite rooted in their, ah...mischievous ways. Though that was not the problem it might have been; a trick or two was a good way to liven things up, he thought. Dusk Owl had in his youth been somewhat hotheaded and competitive when it came to the Hare Hunt, for instance, and there had been many instances of pranks on other competitors prior to the event. It got the blood pumping, was the excuse. Whether or not these young ones followed in their pawsteps remained to be seen...
Dusk Owl took a deep breath and sighed to himself. In his den, now only partially under the cover of his bear coat as spring had made its return once again, he had taken to rumination as usual. And every turn of thought eventually went there: to the children. Perhaps it was because of how important they were to the Point's convening, and to the pack as a whole. But he also remembered his conversation with Mourning Dove after the fact - his first proposal, as it were. It had been awkward enough announcing his bachelor and available status like it was something to be important, though Dusk Owl had done his best to smooth it over. Having someone take it seriously, however...Oh, he was truly in it now.
Not that he took issue with Mourning Dove herself at all. The elder knew she was a more than capable hunter and a pleasant conversationalist, and he had no doubt she would make a good mother too when and if that happened. It was Dusk Owl that Dusk Owl fretted about. He wasn't so old that he might die any day now, surely, but he wondered if he could keep up with any children he made. If his partners would not get strange looks for choosing someone much older when there were many younger, strapping males within the pack alone. If any of his progeny would have the same health issues he had now later in life, such as the hip problem he had inherited from his father...
But he had a duty to the Swiftfell, didn't he? And she had come willing. Would it be right to say no for his own selfish concerns? Dusk Owl's greying face wrinkled in a frown at himself. It wasn't like him, like an elder, to doubt like this. But then, he was quite alone in this prospect. In several.
One step at a time, old boy, he told himself. That is all we can do.
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