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)Clingin' to insanity In hopes the world will ease up
The first couple of weeks had been tough. He'd only been a "father", of sorts, for a short time and already he felt so much love for Gemma's newborn babes that it was no surprise she was wary of him. All he wanted to do was to raise them and love them, something he had not had the chance to go through when he himself had been a pup, but that was frankly overwhelming for Gemma, considering they'd settled on being just friends, and it was just a little a bit awkward. She was protective over them, he understood that. The first two weeks after birth she'd chased him away with nips and growls; none too aggressive but all the more, it made him nervous. Finally, as they'd grown fatter and stronger, Gemma started to accept the gifts of food he gave her and the pups, and hopefully she was starting to realise he could be a big help. The pups were around a month old now, and Frodo had been accepted to take one of them off the busy mother's paws for the day. Finally, he had a chance to have quality time with the younglings.
He only had his son, Nate-River, with him now. Gemma had said that she might join Frodo in the pack-hunt he meant to set up soon, bringing Payne along, depending on whether she felt like it, he guessed. But for now, he'd focus on showing the black and white boy around. He was a tiny thing, all damp fur and blinking black eyes. Gemma's eyes were blue, and Frodo's green, so he found this slightly odd, but it didn't phase him too much. He knew all too well that there was a chance he wasn't the pup's father at all, but he meant to be a father for them anyway. They deserved it, Gemma deserved it.
Nate had been born second, and he was the smaller of the litter, quite skinny in frame, but none the less curious of his surroundings. Currently, the boy lay swaddled in blankets, in a basket that lay strapped across Frodo's back. Frodo had made the basket himself; it was basic reeds and bamboo and ferns, kind of weaved together to make a tan and green structure. It was firm and safe, and that was all that mattered. He pulled the basket straps closer to his body and quickened his pace, his all-black form making good progress. Nate bounced around a little, occasionally whining. He was quite a quiet boy sometimes, thought Frodo. But maybe his personality hadn't come out just yet. Ow, Fa? Ow? at still a month old, Nate couldn't speak very well, but he could say some basic words. His first word had been "Ma", and after a couple of weeks he'd started viewing Frodo as "Fa". Despite Frodo living in a different hut to Gemma, it was like he was never gone, the amount of time he spent with the small family.
What's up, chappy? asked Frodo, suddenly concerned. He craned his neck to see the little pup peeking up from the blankets, paws resting on the brim of the basket. No. Fa? No, Fa? said Nate-River Silvertooth, his paw tugging. Frodo was still confused, until he realised that Nate's paw was trapped in the basket. It didn't look too painful, but he could see why it would cause nervousness from the boy. S'fine, Natey. Yer stay still, now, kay? Shh, squire. said Frodo gently, taking the basket from around his shoulders slowly, holding against his chest with one hand while he used the other to free the pup's paw from the basket. Nate grinned when he was free, shaking his paw for a while before realising it was unharmed. Got be'tder, Fa. Fer true. Frodo chuckled at the boy and swung the basket back over his shoulder. It wasn't really the basket that had been the danger- it had been Nate that poked his paw there in the first place. That, Frodo was confident about. And he hoped that the boy would learn from that mistake, and not let it happen again. A test of intelligence.
Frodo had walked a little way out of the village before he paused. He spied a huge boulder in the grass. It had numerous belongings settled down on it; all left by him. This was where he had aimed to bring Nate back to, before summoning the rest of the tribe. Or, what he could summon, anyway. He'd planned to get the pack together for a hunt. Nate could watch from the basket, watch and learn. At his age, Frodo doubted the pup would learn much, but watching would at least prove entertaining. He bent his knees to retrieve his bow and arrows, and fastened his cloak around him (which involved a lot of tucking under and removing the basket again), before straightening up again. The young man then raised his muzzle to the sky and let loose a summoning howl, calling forth anyone who wanted to hunt. Hell, even guests to the pack would be welcome. He wanted it to be an all-round fun day for everyone. Why, Fa? asked Nate-River, curious black eyes blinking slowly. He hadn't really met many others of the pack yet. Only the great woman who he knew only as the leader, and that had been weeks ago. You'll see, my little wrathmunk. Dopplegangers'll be spreadin' roun' 'ere soon, cuz' they all big, big like me, see? Well, bigger'n me. You'll like the big wolves, Nate. he said. Although, it was upsetting that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone that he was Nate and Payne's father...or would-be father, anyway. As far as the tribe knew, he was but there adopted father, or family friend. A risk on Gemma's honour, her loyalty to her mate, to become public, would be shameful, something Frodo didn't want for the poor girl. If anything, he blamed himself it had come to that.