April 13th, Evening, Partly Cloudy — Current Temperature: 39° F/4° C
Datura is aware that Taima is pregnant, but going to just play if vague on whether or not he's a member of Cut Rock River
"Oh no, I'm fine babe," he had insisted when she had told him, "Just fine." Though she hadn't really believed him no matter how many times he repeated himself. "Really, why wouldn't I be fine?" But he had to get away, he had to get some fresh air because there was no way to process this news with her right in front of him. Feigning the most contrived cough in the world, the golden boy promised he would just be stepping out for a moment to get a sip from the creek and, "no, no you just sit there." Calmly, the boy had trotted away, taking care to wait until there were several trees blocking her view of him before broke into a sprint, rushing headlong through the undergrowth dying to get away from the staggering responsibilities that had been successively dumped upon him.
The father-to-be stood at a tipping point. At his back where the foreboding, ancient trees that marked his mate's heritage, his obligations; in front of him lay a quivering field of reeds that looked like freedom to him. He trembled at the awareness that came over him in waves, behind him was the death of his childhood, the end of an era; before him was the promise of a few more months, just a few more months that he could hold on to. His sigh was rattled by a quiet sob as he felt the world's focus drifting away from him.