I won’t be calling you dad

As the fossa grew limp, fought less, Víðarr released his grip on the creature's leg. He would let his son have the satisfaction of taking the creature down on his own. Let him have the final death throes, until finally, the carcass lay on the ground between them. A soft grin on his face, taking a step back. Watching the boy finish the creature off, letting the creature finally go all the way limp, deadweight in the boy's mouth. Yes, this is pride. He's proud of Akito, he can't help himself. Watching him dispatch the fossa was only the beginning.

"Yes, just like that." A glimmer in his icy blue gaze, Víðarr can't help but be proud as he looks the boy over. The fossa had taken a bite out of Akito, but it wasn't a bad one. No, he looks fine. Just fine, in Víðarr's eyes. "Come, you take a trophy from it." The viking strode over to the carcass of the predator, wiggling its mouth open, looking at the two rows of gleaming teeth. Holding it here and gesturing for his son to come, so they could pry one free.

"Viðarr"