His children. In the time that he spent in the den, whether curled up beside Maija or alone, thoughts of his children, of all three litters were never far from his mind. The only litter he had been able to lay eyes on were the ones from Cataleya. But he could barely remember what they looked like now. They seemed like a distant memory. How were they doing? Was Cataleya raising them right? Was she taking care of them like she should? What of his children from Argent? What would they look like? Would be able to meet them? And Maija's...if only she knew how much he hated that he wouldn't be able to see their children with his own eyes. It was the one thing as a father that he would fail as. He would never get to see his children grow up and start their own lives; he would only be able to hear about it and how he wished it wasn't like that. The albino ghost wouldn't get away with what he did to him. He wouldn't.
With thoughts of his children would quietly wander around, instinct driving him towards his borders. Old habits really did die hard. Mammoth paws would slowly tap against the earth, massive skull lowered towards the ground, nostrils flaring, auds attentive as the sound of a low squeak would catch his attention. Skull would raise up, nasals quivering as he tried to pin-point the location of the sound. Who's there? He would call out, hoping that whoever was there would respond. The scent that reached him was familiar, but it was too faint to tell yet if he knew this entity.
