and nothing's ever guaranteed

He wasn't alone for long, and along came his gilded daughter. She seemed aglow with the rush of strenuous activity, though she did not stink of blood in the way that his son so often did. A run, perhaps, or a climb? As the firelight began to catch on her form, the glistening of water that clung to her pelage told him the answer. Swimming, in this weather? Couldn't be his offspring.

As she bundled one of his furs up closer and flopped down beside him, he grunted softly in surprise. Which became a much louder growl of annoyance as she shoved her freezing, wet nose up against his paw. The spot of sodden fur instantly dropped in temperature, despite the closeness of the fire. The grouchy old man nipped at his daughter's ear, and reached a foreleg over her narrow shoulders to pull her front half into the space against his chest. "C'mere, you shit." he growled, the broad grin that he wore contradicting the malice of his tone.

"One of these days I might actually fight back against you terrors, you know that?" he chided his daughter, aiming to settle his bulk so that he could keep her pulled up against his chest. Unfortunately, he needed to be mindful of her horns- which was something he didn't need to concern himself with when tussling with his other children. "How was your swim, little carp?"