His ears twitched, perking up to attention. Had he just heard that? Weren't they just speaking of Miriette and whatever her intentions were? The creaking of the rocker paused once more as the father considered his son's words; was it that he did not know how to shift, or that he was simply unable? Was there such a thing? Wasn't it biologically inherited through genetics — and both Pripyat's parents were shifters, thus he should be no different.
But, the fur at his neck stiffened. The cyclops thought back to the fall, to the accident that had stolen away his other children and Pripyat's siblings; was there a possibility that although Pripyat had survived the miscarriage of his brothers and sisters, it had still physically impacted him one way or another? Jefferson knew nothing of genetics or the impacts of damage during pregnancy. He could have asked Geneva, but likely she would not know either.
Slowly, green eye turned over his shoulder, concern lurking within. "Can't?" The brute pushed himself to his feet, lifting from the rocker and turning to face the grey-furred boy. "What do you mean? What's happened?"
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