Midday, Partly Cloudy — Current Temperature: 48° F/9° C
Datura was rapidly growing impatient with their situation.
The air was tense, charged. @Taima had to stay away a lot of the time because god knows how Maksim would react if he found out she was pregnant —with "her escorts" seed, nonetheless. Most of the time he popped into the more populated areas only to sneak a rabbit for Taima or to return later on to replace that rabbit. No one must see Taima, he thought to himself, No one must know. He was gravely concerned for what would be done to her, done to his children... and yet his heart yearned to know the other wolves who lived here beside the river, and he resented Taima and the isolation that her condition had forced upon him. But the less people who knew Datura and Taima were here the better. It would be less painful that way, when they left. At the same time though, there was no sign of Grizzly Hollow.
Would he be stuck here forever?
He tried to occupy himself with names for the children. He decided they would all be boys. All of them. He didn't want to deal with girls. Rembrandt? Reginald? Percival?... The boy wanted to find something fancy and dignified to bestow on his heirs, so that anyone who met them would know immediately that they had been endowed with greatness, with power. He himself was named for a flower. A gust of air burst form his nose as he snorted. A flower. But a poisonous one. There was a darkness about his name that he had always wondered at, always disliked. He was a good man, a straight man. Stopping at the edge of the cliff, Datura turned his golden head up and his eyes climbed up the worn limestone cliff-face to the sky. What's in a name?