Once upon a time, he had a love, and it was lost. He will not speak on it.

Heartbreak had been his lot so long, he ate of it, drank of it, breathed it in each day. He lived it, he was made of it, so much so the Swamp named him Love Lost - he was destined to it. This, he knew, and so he never thought again the day would come when he was not alone.

Or, moreso, it was a night. A night, he understood, could hardly be called love. A lovely doe, who - what could he say? Saw something in him. Took pity. Who briefly quelled his aching heart.

So brief, and yet -

"I know there is little I can ask for," he lowered his head, humbly, "but I hope…for the children to be healthy. And - for her…to be happy. Whatever she may choose."

Beauty Past Compare had been lying amongst the furpile of her puppies for the last five minutes. One would imagine from her unimpressed face, mouth closed primly, that he had told her all about his inner turmoil and woes, but in truth, he had been standing here with his baleful glowing eyes looking very sorry for himself for the entirety of the period without saying anything.

Until that part.

"Guess she chose to spend the night with a piteous little buck," she said, not at all getting up, "and got pregnant just that once too."