Eight - Mistletoe's Beloved - Glorall
Father of Levi, Enya, and Ravenna
It truly had been a rough birth for Mistletoe yet Warlow had stayed by her side the whole time, wandering away only to speak with Tesseract and to fetch her nourishment so she could keep the children growing. All too soon they were up on their small paws and running around like a bunch of hooligans causing all manner of mischief. It about drove him mad with the constant motion those three were in for his mind was already a pot of uncertainities, worries, and insanities. They just pushed and pushed and pushed. Not that he did not love them - all three of them were so vastly different and yet held a small part of Warlow. It was strange to know that he had more to give when he thought he had given it all to Mistletoe. Perhaps those three extra pieces were a part of their love and just split away seamlessly to his trio of children. Levi, his small son who tried to be bigger than all; Ravenna, who had a both innocent and yet naughty way with life; and Enya, who resembled his sister so much with her own air of self confidence.
Luckily for Warlow his mate was on top of things despite the way she dropped weight and he fussed over her thin form. She had his sister - who he had always known had an affinity for children - watching the three miscreants and planned an outing for them. It immediatly perked Warlow up. The chance to get away from the hellions (no matter how much he loved them), the chance to spend time with his beloved, and the chance to be free of confines for the day. So he had slipped out of Glorall on the tail of Mistletoe, falling into a steady step behind her that occasionally pressed against her hips in a silent signal of support. He worried for her. She was already so small. He tried to fatten her up some and she had filled out a bit but not enough to satisfy him.
Who knew that love could feel like this? Both fulfilling and worrisome? It was a grand feeling. Magnificent. The fact that she had given birth to their children had strengthened their already airtight bond. Nothing could ever seperate him from his beloved except the ultimate death and to think upon that was a painful drop into insanity - to be without her would be ... death itself. She seems so happy and free; he is eager to follow her wherever her hearts desire. And it quickly becomes apparent where she is leading him.
Mistletoe is limber and quick to spin around, bouncing like their children, but her play inspires a sense of warmth within him. It has meaning. It is not meant to antagonize, like Ravenna does to Levi, or Levi does to his sisters. Between him and Mistletoe there would never be a need to interfere. Warlow sighs content as she digs her face into his scruff and as her paws begin to wrap around him; she is small enough that it would take much force to roll him over but he willingly falls down with her.
Her words warm him and he sits up to lick her face. "You are the greatest of mothers and the only thing that teethers my soul to this world. I love you, Mistle." How great the words are to be spoken so freely. He pushes himself up as she begins to show excitement over their free time and he darts in to nip at her tail. "I will flush out something for you - you catch it.." Before she can answer he is bounding into the thick undergrowth of the woodlands. He is in luck today - it seems with her his luck is endless - and the moment his large body disturbs the peace he hears the flapping of birds; they head off to his right through the thicket and if Mistletoe is quick she can reach them as they break from cover. The tender flesh and easy bones of such birds is a delicacy although they had plenty of seagull eggs in Glorall.
As the birds fly for Mistletoe his ear cocks and the figure of a chipmunk races by; he is quick. Like a viper he has the creatue between his stern jaws, pressing down until he hears a pop from its bones and the squeaking cease before he struggles back out to his mate to see if she has been as fortunate as him...