Baby Steps [Masanna Family]

[attr="class","pltxt"]It was curiously quiet in Masyn’s head since the birth of his second, and full, litter.

He had not delusional himself into believing it was permanent. Ghosts – or perhaps one particular demon, rather – had made themselves quite comfortable in his psyche in the months just prior to and following his mothers’ demise. A permanent resident, he knew, sinking its claws into the crevices of his mind and striking when the time was opportune. But it was quite odd, he thought, for his head and heart to have been so very…peaceful, lately. Normal. Contrite, even, when he took the time to consider some of his past actions and behaviors. He was not a creature capable of shame in the sense that most were, but perhaps…an inkling of regret, at times, for how he had allowed things to unfold.

A normal beast might consider his current respite a glimpse into sanity; Masyn thought of it differently. He was sharp of mind and sound of wit even with his mother’s whispered voice ringing ad nauseum in his brain, or so he would have argued soundly had someone been privy to what went on in his mind. It was unsettling now, and quiet, though not unwelcome. What was it about his litter that had silenced what raged within him? What about his family had momentarily leashed his monsters, bringing them sharply to heel? He had dwelled on it, though not incessantly, during and after Lisanna’s pregnancy. In the end, he had been left with no answers; all he knew was that he had been possessed by a single-minded determination to provide for her, provide for them, and ensure they did not bleed away into the world with nary a whisper as his last young ones had.

They grew so fast; it was a cliché to say it, he knew, but true. With each morning he woke to survey them, he found their developments startling. Whisky and Delta were inseparable and damn near impossible to distinguish on the best of days with their feathery brindle coats; Striker proved to be ever the image of his father, while Kimber was a little clone of his mother – though Masyn suspected he would outgrow her; Sinbad was a fair mixture in terms of his colorations, though his features did lean more strongly towards Lisanna’s; and Echo’s pattern could be traced endlessly like constellations, with eyes a striking, piercing blue.

All of them (or, rather, most) so different, and yet each a concise and perfect mixture of their parentage. He was eager to see what they would grow to be, how their personalities would form. He found it curiously difficult to be away from them for long periods of time, though he did so out of necessity, for he still had his duties to Ravenis. But this day in particular belonged to his children, his paws leading him across Ravenis’ territory towards the dens. They were old enough at last to venture from the caverns on their first official outing, something that he had silently vowed he would not miss.

He found Lisanna just outside of the entrance, her little form tucked neatly into a seated position as she seemingly waited for their young to rise. He approached her at a slow lope before circling behind her to sit at her side, posture alert and watchful as per usual – it was still difficult for Masyn to allow himself to ease into a position of comfort. ”Lazy things,” he murmured with a swift glance towards the cave, though he knew that by now Lisanna was accustomed enough to his demeanor to likely know that he said it with no seriousness nor disdain. Pups would be pups, and they would rise to greet the world when they were ready. Likely with great excitement. His muzzle twitched, his own version of a suggested almost-smile. ”Though I imagine once they’ve emerged and tasted temporary freedom, it will be nearly impossible to corral them inside again.”