Saga could not help but feel confused, and slightly shaken at her mother's crying. She was always strong, and it was strange to see her so emotional. She was grateful that Dutiron seemed just as oblivious as she did, and she moved forward to rest beside him and Dhiren. Pale green eyes watched as Canta spoke a single word -- father. Slowly she reclined to her hindquarters, perched precariously, swaying slightly.
This was him. He had never been anything but a vague memory to her, little more than a soft voice in her dreams -- his scent was familiar and she now realized why. She couldn't help but feel painfully ambivalent, torn between delight and something like anger. Why had he been away for so long? Wasn't a father supposed to help take care of his children, like her mother always had? The child's eyes would narrow as he watched him, listening to him speak.
He explained he was sick, so he had gone away. All she did was sit and listen. To Dhiren, who explained to them more what had happened, and to Cherokee, who seemed to express great regret for not being around. Truthfully, the child did not like so much emotion; she wished her mother would stop crying, wished Canta would not sound so angry, wished she had never come to Cherokee's call.
