His children have been gone for too long. Pyxis tells him not to worry – she is heavy with child again, though by now they feel sure it is only one this time. This had sparked a moment of mirth between them when they remembered how she’d once called herself a whale; but that had been some weeks ago, and worry has been eating at him ever since.

From the moment of their birth almost a year ago, he has made the Tephran wolves guard their twins. Yet they cannot prevent Brigade from taking wing, nor do they keep Wonder from stealing across the border in the dead of night. They aren’t Red – they know nothing of his heart. They are only capable of following the alpha’s command in it’s simplest sense.

While Pyxis allows the children their freedom, Daemron struggles against it tooth and nail. However impermanent, he is loath to see the members of his family (his pack) scattering this way and that. Despite the unease it causes him, he hasn’t been able to prevent it – not with Red gone and a baby on the way, not when they must also look out for those they’ve taken into their fold (Noori; Elkhazel). So while his pack is indeed growing, he cannot help but worry at its simultaneous thinning.

He had seen his family fail, once – he refused to allow it to fail again.

And so it was that Daemron was often found stalking the borders, hoping his children would return. (Hoping he is strong enough to hold them all together.) He has spent one such morning trudging along Tephra’s perimeter when his steely gaze suddenly grips a familiar form on the horizon. He halts mid-stride, testing the air to confirm her subtle scent before expelling a huff of misted breath. “Wonder,” he calls out, relief flooding through him as he starts toward his wayward daughter from a distance.