His eye lids fluttered, lifting slowly. But he didn't need his eyes to tell him what he already knew. Warm-mum was gone, she had left him. Before his warm-mum would never leave his side and he could always nuzzle deeper into her soft warm-mum belly, but these past few days she had started going away for minutes... hours. Where was she? He could sense a presence outside: that watchful shadow that Gus had yet to meet face to face. No matter how he cried and yipped, the sentinel would not come any closer, would not hold him and cuddle him like mom did. Sometimes he could hear the guardian shuffle around and readjust his shadow in response to Gus' whines. But that was it.

"Muuuummmm," the dusky boy cried from inside the darkness of the bear den, "Whur muuuuuum. Want mum. MUM MUMMMMMMM."

Outside of the den he watched the silhouette of the mysterious den-watcher. Its ears twitched. Encouraged by thi small response, the boy raised his voice, "MY MUM. GET MUM. WUR MUM. HELPHELP. MUM." The guardian shuddered, but gave no other indication that he had heard Gus. Pouting, the pudgy heir to Grizzly Hollow relented. Suddenly he found himself wobbling, his eyelids heavy again. But he didn't want to go to bed, not without warm-mum. Shaking himself violently, the child resolved to stay awake.

Now that his son was getting old enough, Taima began to take breaks, to go on walks... to do... woman things or something like that Datura couldn't quite understand. Dutifully he assumed his post beside the den to watch over the cub, his child, his heir. At first the role had filled him with pride and he sat beside the yawning hole with his golden breast puffed outward. But when the child began to cry, his pride faltered. What was he supposed to do? Several times he had considered going in there to look after the boy, but he could never quite wrap his head around what "looking after" really entailed. He was looking after him right now, right? Standing by the den entrance, making sure no predators or Creek wolves could approach the blossoming heir of Grizzly Hollow, surely that was enough. What more was he supposed to do? Nurse it? Surely he couldn't do that. His teats didn't drip like Taima's did. Cuddle it? This thought excited and disgusted him all at the same time: he longed to touch his son, but he was so small, so pudgy. Would he break him? What would it feel like? He shuddered.

And so he let his son cry out. He never asked for Datura specfically, anyway, and in his secret heart the golden father nursed a darkness, a biterness. Why did Octavius not cry for him? Datura could feel himself being torn in two by longing to fulfill a place in his son's life and the hopelessness of being a first time father, too inexperienced to know what to do. So he stayed there beside the den, breathing slowly and resolving not to encourage Gus' whimpering. That would probably only make it worse.

He hoped Taima would return soon.