03-07-2010, 10:49 AM
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(280.)
Someone came, but it was not Mama. Not to say that the figure was not recognizable by the infant—he knew his father. He did not move as the Rosen approached, matching the huge chocolate-furred wolf intently just as he did to the young pup. He knew that Mama was not Papa, and that he needed to behave differently around both of them. He knew to be a little more cautious around Papa, but perhaps that was because he didn't spend that much time with him. It didn't really matter—Papa was important and he needed to do things. King actually felt a little self-satisfied in that he took time to come and see him... or maybe Mama, but she wasn't here because she was away but coming back. He continued staring and he continued chomping absentmindedly on the rock.
Papa didn't speak but he knew that meant that he was thinking. It was hard to think sometimes when you were talking so when there was no speech there were many thoughts whirling around like snowflakes in an eddying wind. King knew that that was the same for him; he didn't speak often because he was too busy thinking, piecing together the world one observation at a time. He wondered what Papa was thinking about now—probably him, seeing as though he had his eyes fixed on him. The boy's curiosity grew and he weighed the pros and cons of asking. It seemed like a harmless enough question. His dark tail twitched once or twice. He lifted his head, the rock still between his tan forepaws, and queried in a small and yet confident voice, "What are you thinking about?"