Nine - Mistletoe's Beloved - Glorall
Father of Levi, Enya, and Ravenna

No one had ever informed Warlow that being a parent could be such an incredible hassle. There has always been an air of savagery that clings to Warlow; before his time with Mistletoe he had been a rouge and a loner. Away from everyone including his sister, Natu, whom he had followed out of some misguided sense of purpose. Nothing in life sustained him the way hunting had, the way surviving called the blood tingling to each nerve in his body, and he had held on to a good life. That is not to say that meeting his mate was a bad thing. It was incredibly life changing, the bond that bound them together. It had opened up a side to Warlow never before known to him. A love so untamable and vast that even to swim the entire ocean was to still not know the depths and lengths he would go to in order to protect her.

He had never had much in the way of experience with children. His own childhood had been cut rather short with the untimely deaths of his parents and with all his other siblings gone - he knew not where - he had chosen to follow his white sister as she travelled. She had done so out of her intense grief from losing her own family and he had scoffed at her for so long. How could one mourn death for such a long period? Well, he knew now. To lose Mistletoe or one of his three children would be like living in an endless hell. To lose ALL of them would be to live a pointless, empty existance. Nothing could fill the shell within him if they were to go.

It had been a tumutlous year. Warlow cannot be given any awards when it came to fatherhood, for he was often so furious at the trio of kids that he could not make sense of what was going on himself. They were a noisy bunch - the two girls, at least - and constant bickering. He felt glad that Natu was well older than him and that she had never seen fit to torment him the way Ravenna and Enya focused their minds on Levi. Oh, he knew that the girls bothered his son, and he saw the surly looks that Levi gave to him and Mistletoe. He just wasn't sure of what to do about it.

So after todays antics he had sighed, stretched his stalwart red figure and began a steady lope in the direction his son had left. He had not said anything to Levi, never really had a chance to work with him alone without the two girls intervening for attention. There was a pride that blazed in his chest when he looked upon the fine figure that Levi was becoming. Mistletoe was off doing whatever it is she wanted to do and Warlow would take today to make up for where he had bene lacking.

He does not rush, does not race, only moves a continuous speed. His muscles eat up the ground with a steady lope until he is close by to Levi, the scent of his only son strong in his nostrils. Only then does Warlow slow to a sedate walk, his head lifted and ears pricked while he watches out for his son, spying him laying atop a boulder. He was magnificent and his temper matched well that of Warlow's before his settled life.

Warlow pauses near the boulder, setting his wide haunches on the ground and glancing about as the forest life took over them. It was peaceful in the way that the ocean pack could never be, familiar to his paws. "Do you long to travel?" His voice is gruff and coarse as it has always been, and his yellow/brown eyes flick up to his son, honestly curious for the wandering gene was fierce in their lineage.