It was with an overwhelming sense of relief that Sagacity returned to her den, though even greater still was her newfound appreciation for Naira and the mercy she'd been shown. Even Mapplethorpe- that changeling creature, who she now knew was capable of much more than she'd ever anticipated- had shown the colour of an honourable man. In her mind, she owed them both dearly. Rhysis, unfortunately, was nowhere to be seen though Sagacity found herself wondering if this, too, wasn't her fault. She'd likely caused the rift between the two of them, and obviously, Mapplethorpe had been enough of an opportunist to seize the moment when it presented itself. He baffled her still, but she decided that wasn't a bad quality for an alpha to have.

She decided that as soon as she was able, and as often as she could, she would serve the two of them. Naira would need a constant food supply, so Sagacity, who had only one pup at her side, would have a bit of extra time to be able to hunt for her as well. She was not entirely sure what she thought of Asta, though she would have to be useful- Sagacity had no mate or companion to take care of her, as Chetan had stayed in the wilderness and Faol, her only real friend, lived the life of a lone wolf as well.

Lovingly she nuzzled the sooty child against her side, and bathed him, running her tongue down the black and silver back he sported. "Mercy," She said softly, "My little crowchild."

Though Sagacity had never imagined herself as a mother at this age, and certainly not on her own, she found comfort in the fact that her instincts were able to tell her what to do, and that most of it came naturally. With a pup of this age, there was very little for her to do besides provide warmth and food, and those were things that her body took care of without her needing to give it direction. She needed food for herself, of course, but she already knew how to hunt and had the aid of Asta as a babysitter. She was fully aware, however, that the simplicity of mothering would soon be over and soon enough, the more Mercy grew, the more he would need a different kind of care. He'd have questions to be answered, mistakes to be corrected, guidance that needed to be given. The act of mothering and nurturing would demand more and more of her, so for the time being she was content to enjoy the simplicity if being the provider.

Of course, there were moments which weren't so charming- when he soiled himself and needed to be cleaned, when he mewled while she was sleeping, when he needed to be nursed when she wanted rest or when she needed him to nurse but he wasn't hungry. There was a great deal of discomfort and it was an exhausting job, feeding even only one pup. The most tiresome element was the fact that she had no mate to take tag-team duty and watch the baby while she got some time to herself, no one to bring her everything she needed. She was a single mother, and it was extremely hard work.

But for moments like this, when the little tyke giggled and squirmed with happiness, it was all worth it. He made more little noises, new sounds that he added to his repertoire every day. He was getting better at moving around as well, and she chuckled softly as he tried to follow her nose. She nudged him again, breathing warm air over him and purposefully slipping her whiskers across his sensitive sides and up along his back to see what he might think of that.

A soft chuckle came from Sagacity as she watched her son, and she murmured "Little Crowchild," quietly to him when his gaze was lifted to hers. Everything he did brought a sparkle to her xanthic eyes. One little foot was placed on either side of her muzzle and she allowed him to gnaw on her face, feeling the brush of tiny milk teeth feather through her fur. His tiny sounds were all adorable, and put a smile on her features as she gazed down at the dark little boy who seemed to grow more and more every day.

It would not matter that to all others he was not her biological son. Perhaps one day he would doubt himself because of his alleged origins, but she would always know in her heart that he was the product of a union between two wolves who loved each other, but could not be together. It was the truth, either in reality or in the reality which was a complete fabrication. It was a truth so that she would never have to lie to him- though all he would ever need to know was that she was his mother, and that he was a blessing.

She pursed her lips so that her whiskers might tickle his cheeks, hoping to elicit a reaction out of the playful boy.

Sagacity's breath hitched within her throat as the child voiced- even if it was simply by chance- the word 'Ma.' She smiled and her heart ached with happiness and sadness at the same time. That the little prince would never know his own true identity came as an astonishingly hard blow in the wake of so sweet a syllable. He could never know that his father had been King and therefore he a Prince. He would never know she was his true mother, just that he was a bastard child who had by chance been saved by a passer-by, and that he had two imaginary siblings which had perished. That he would be forever a Crowchild, an illegitimate son conceived illegally, born of sin and named for the show of kindness with which he'd been allowed to live came as a stake through her very heart. But she loved him and all he represented nonetheless.

"Yes, Ma," She said, nuzzling her giggling child gently. She fought back tears as she did so. There was no harm in having him call her Mother, as she had been assigned that role nonetheless. She could only hope that her dear little boy would never regret that she wasn't his real mother or wish that the woman he'd been told was his real parent hadn't died.

For now, the boy knew naught but love and that she was his mother. He would have to be told, one day, the lie about his heritage and she knew that that day was coming soon. It was not something she intended to hide from him, but she knew he needed to grow up with that story in his head, rather than being raised as her bloodchild. He was too young to understand now, but with language coming to him, it would not be long before he could understand. He would know that he had no father and would ask, and she would have to tell him. As he made little noises, snuggled into the warm fur of her chest, she hummed quietly, licking the top of his head, enjoying the time in which she could be exactly what he thought she was, knowing that all too soon, that would change.

Though his mother smiled, there was something about the shine in her eyes which expressed an emotion deeper than the ones Mercy could comprehend.In knowing nothing but happiness, mild frustration and need, he could not tell what his mother's strange look meant, but she was smiling so his response was positive.His tail wagged and tongue lolled out the side of his mouth as he gleefully accepted the words as praise, even though he was still unaware that he'd called her the name she wanted to be called.He knew the affirmative- yes- and knew it as a good thing.But whatever 'ma' was, it must have been a good thing."Ma ma ma ma ma," He chirruped in a sing-song voice; he didn't know what it meant,but if it was good, he'd repeat it!

"Ma!" He exclaimed again, this time with even more enthusiasm, and made a dive for one of his mother's front paws.The pounce wasn't great and he landed far short of it but scooched the rest of the way on his stomach and grabbed at it with both forelegs. With a playful growl, he began to gum her foot, wrenching his head this way and that to try and get a good bite hold on her foot, but he had no teeth, small jaw size and no real idea of how to tackle so formidable a foe. Nonetheless, he set about destroying her foot with slobber, quite content to gum her foot to death making loud smacking noises with his lips amid the gurgling growls.

He couldn't have known why the tears were brought to her eyes at the sound of his voice, nor could he have known exactly what he was saying, but she was content to know that in his little voice was happiness and affection for the one who loved and raised him. How much he looked like Rhysis would be, for her, a constant reminder of the man she'd once adored. But her love for him had begun to fade like the colour of crimson from the evening sky as it subsides to the darkness of night. This little piece of him had now commanded her affection, and through Mercy she found her affections for Rhysis replaced with a different kind of love. For this child was not his father, nor would he ever replace the man who'd once been the King of Nomad's Pass. But for Sagacity, he was much, much more- for her, he was the world.

He began to slobber on her foot and she allowed him to do so, knowing that he'd have teeth soon and would need to chew on things to help them come through the gums. All too soon he'd be using those teeth and she'd be wincing from his playful advances, from the tugging of baby teeth on her ears and the sharp prick of them at her ribs and neck. He'd grow, she knew, and he'd become an adolescent and then an adult before her own eyes.

But for now he was small, and easy to be cherished. She chuckled quietly and nudged his belly to tickle the little fellow and elicit another happy giggle from her boy.

Childishly, he gummed away at his mother's foot, his tiny growls and gurgles changing to a squeal of laughter, sudden, bright and very loud, when his middle- still soft and almost excessively round, given that he was an only child- was poked. He toppled over onto his side, still giggling and squealing with delight, and he batted successfully at the accusing silver muzzle which had poked him, smacking his mother squarely on the nose.This, naturally,amused the child to no end who had yet to learn what pain was and that he could create and feel it.

Flopping back over onto his stomach and still recovering from his giggle fit he snaked his way beneath his mother's chin and wormed himself into the warm fur of her neck. He wriggled his backside so that he shuffled both of her forepaws aside just enough to fit between them and thus gain himself the best position between them, just beneath her neck. Once there and comfortable, he lay one forearm across one of his mother's shin and stretched, allowing one hind leg to do the same. Rolling half onto his side and half onto his back the dark little boy looked up at his mother with twinkling eyes and laughed again, but it was much softer, tenderer. There, cradled in her arms like an angel, he rubbed his nose against the fur and warmth of her neck until, after a squeaky yawn, he drifted off into slumberland.