Morning seemed to come too soon, especially for Darlene, who'd spent those extra few hours awake. She and Stanley were silent and expression-less as they drank their coffee and ate their morning meal. Dara however, was wide awake with excitement, like any child, a day could never start soon enough. He was contently playing his own little game by himself on the floor, his bunny plush in tow. His father stared at him for a minute or two, before grunting, "-Yah eaten' yet, boy?" The young warthog blinked at Stanley, as his mother quickly supplied, "-Yes dear, I fed him earlier." Her husband's eyebrows narrowed, still glaring towards Dara. He finally responded, "-Well feed 'em somethin' else." He'sa still skinny as ah girl." Darlene lowered her eyes in respect, and did as he bid her. She motioned her son to come to her and she drew him into her lap. Dara accepted the piece of bread and jam she offered, with no objection, and nibbled it down. As he ate, he glanced over at baby Graff, who lie wide awake in his basket, taking in everything within sight, with enormous interest. Having finished his bread, Dara slowly slid off his mother's lap and walked over to the baby's basket. He stood beside, and reached a hand in, gently scooping his little brother's hand in his own. "-Hi Graff," he spoke softly, giving the little hand a tiny squeeze. Dara swore he felt little Graff squeeze his hand back, as he happily burbled and cooed at his big brother. The young warthog stiffened, however, hearing Stanley give another unsettling grunt, darkly, as he sipped his coffee. Dara didn't like it when his father made that sound; he knew it meant Stanley was annoyed or in bad humour of sorts. He wondered what was making his parent irked in that instance. He didn't need to think long, for they were then joined by their canine host. The faint dark circles under his eyes showed that he'd been the last to sleep but the first to awake, which was his usual nor, but considering how late things had been the previous night, he'd gotten less rest than was recommended for an average Mobian. Yet this didn't seem to spoil the wolf's mood, as he seemed much cheerier than he had been the evening before. "-Good mornin'," he nodded to the Warthoggs, as he took a seat. "-Mornin' yaself," Stanley responded, staring at him thoughtfully. Darlene saw the look in her husband's eyes, and knew, he too, saw the dark circles and was using this to his advantage, in his theory that Jonah was "ill-bred" and "no-good". Her own guess was show correct, as the male warthog questioned the wolf, with a smug look, "-Sleep well?" His mate shot him a glare, but he obviously didn't notice or care. Luckily, their host seemed to be in too good a mood to be shaken from it or to understand he'd just been insulted. Jonah simply replied, "-Eh, could've had all the sleep I wanted... didn't need it." Couldn't anyways... who needs sleep at such a time?" I'm a father." Stanley murmured, "-Ah... ah see." Hmm, been there, done that." Once again, the mockery flew over the wolf's head, implying it for a simple remark that Stanley knew his situation, seeing as he had two sons of his own. Trying to get Jonah's attention away from Stanley before he said something REAL cynical, the female warthog spoke, "-That's wonderful news, Mr.Wolfe." How are they?" meaning his wife and child. "-She's fine, and the baby's healthy," Jonah responded, in a relieved tone. He smiled a little, a bit of pride showing. "-It's a boy." Strong little tyke, he is." They say he'll be a biggun when he's grown, from the size of his paws..." Darlene smiled back. "-Has he been named?" "-Yes, ma'am." We named him 'Svein'." "-Svein'," Stanley repeated his words, mulling outloud. "Hrmmm... not exactly ah common name, eh?" His wife was going red in the face, beneath her grey warthog fur, at his irrepressible behaviour. Darlene was convinced that either Jonah was just too joyous to sense the insults in his words, or he had the patience of an archangel. The wolf explained calmly, "-I guess you could say that was the point of it." Everyone is different, are they not?" So we figured, why not pick a name that accents that matter... a more unique and well... different name." Quickly commenting before Stanley got a second wind, Darlene said, "-I think it's a wonderful choice, he need not be ashamed of such a fine name." Jonah gave a sincere nod. "-Thank you, Mrs.Warthogg." He then glanced at the two young warthogs, with a soft look. "-Forgive my memory, but may I ask what you two young gentlemen go by again?" At being called a "young gentleman", Dara felt his insides warm with a bit of pride. He spoke confidently, "-My name's Dara." This is my baby brother Graff." A wider grin spread across Jonah's face. "-Pleased to meet you both." The young warthog felt his heart swell so big, it was as if it was floating. Other than his mother, no adult had ever spoken to him in such a friendly and kind matter. Mr.Jonah seemed so nice, how he talked to Dara as if he was a grown-up too, and how he smiled all fatherly-like. His own father, Stanley, talked as if Dara either wasn't there or too young to understand, or unless he was doing something considered troublesome (to his father). That, and Dara had never seen him crack a smile once. Ever. The wolf resumed speaking to Darlene. "-I must say Mrs.Warthogg, your boys certainly come from their own original titled mould, themselves." Before she could respond, Stanley told him, curtly, "-Indeed, yet they'll grow up as civil an' sophisticated as anyone else, thank yah very much." THIS time Jonah sensed the irritance in the warthog's voice, and said, "-My apologizes if I've offended you in anyway, Mr.Warthogg, I certainly had no intention in doing so." Stanley stared, hardly even blinking, for what seemed like an eternity, before responding, "-S'aright, none taken in that case, mate." Deciding he should leave the family to their own matters, Jonah excused himself and left. Darlene sighed woefully to herself. That was Stanley for you, he could spoil the humour, mood, or day for anyone, if he put his mind to it, or sometimes even without trying. But as she was expected to do, as Stanley Warthogg's wife, she said naught a word and simply tended to the children.

After the morning refreshment, the Warthoggs' were preparing for their departure, as they wanted to get a move-on before noon. Considering they hadn't unpacked much the previous day, aside from the evening essentials, all they had to do was move the luggage back outside to the wagon. Stanley had fetched the horses, and was starting to hitch them to the wheel-drawn vehicle. As he sorted out the ropes and bridles, Dara looked towards the horses, brightly. Seeing as his mother was occupied with the baby, he thought it alright for him being allowed to amuse himself. He approached the horses, cautiously of course, as not to startle them. He slowly held out a hand, in which they looked to him, and whickered softly, sniffing him. The little warthog smiled happily as their velvet noses nudged him affectionately. He stroked their muzzles, speaking quietly to them. They were used to him; Dara had spent many a time about them, treating them more as companions than pets or beasts of burden. He had even named them, Bruno and Samuel, respectively. (His father had no appreciation for this, naturally, and simply took to calling them "beasts" or "things" or "stomachs on legs", etc.) Also, he disapproved of Dara "messin' about them", as the young warthog was then abruptly reminded. "-DARA, GIT THE HELL AWAY FROM THERE!" Stanley barked out, seeing his son so close to the horses, who jumped back in shock. He snapped to his wife, "-Darlene, fer the luv of Pete, watch the kid!" Dara was swiftly drawn back by his mother's hand. Throwing down the heap of horse-wear, his father strode over, and glared him harshly in the face. "-Boy, you don't go walkin' round the horses like that, they'll kick ya!" he shouted, furiously. "They could crush yer skull under their hoofs if they wanted ta!" You stay put and quiet with yer mother, fer pity's sake, you hear me?" His son nodded feebly, ashen-faced, as he shrank behind his mother's dress skirts, in shame. Seeming satisfied that he'd gotten his point across, Stanley went back to the harnesses on the ground, picking them up to saddle the animals. Dara started trembling, hard as he tried not to, making Darlene worried. As Graff was now in his basket again, Darlene put her arms around her eldest son, trying to soothe him. A sudden burst of anger hit her, and she blurted out, "-Stanley, he meant no harm, you've no reason to frighten him like that!" Her husband peeled his eyeballs back around, to face her, surged by her 'obstinance' as he saw it. "-Oh that so... then tell meh Darlene, how's he gonna know the danger if ah don't knock the sense into him?" He'd go skippin' right undah the beasts fer all we know, and they'd trample him ta a mince, without him even knowin' what hit 'em!" Is THAT what ya want, luv?" The female warthog didn't reply, she just stared back, piercingly, realizing she'd been foolish to speak so aptly to him. "-Exactly... ya keep that in mind, will ya?" There's a reason ah wear the belt around here, woman, and ya seem to be forgittin' et more than I'm likin'..." He gave a fierce snort, and continued harnessing the horses. His family then figured it was best to sit still and stay out of Stanley's way, until he was finished. Once the wagon was loaded, with the horses harnessed, the male warthog gruffly ordered to get on in. Dara quickly scrambled in, but just as Darlene was about to step on, their canine host came rushing outside. He stopped before the Warthogg couple. "-Oh... I hope I haven't caught you too late, have I?" Jonah inquired, panting lightly. Stanley raised an eyebrow. "-Depends... s'matter?" "-Nothing, everything's quite fine," the wolf assured them. "I was going to ask your wife a question, but if you're on your way, then it's-" "-Nyah, gah ahead, ask," the male warthog commanded. He was rather baffled that Jonah was asking his WIFE the question; HE was the master around here, HE should be directed the inquiries. Jonah didn't seem to mind this; he turned to Darlene, nonetheless. "-I just wanted to thank you, Mrs.Warthogg, for your assistance last night; my wife says her gratitude as well." "-Oh, well it's quite alright, Mr.Wolfe, I'm glad I could help," the female insisted, modestly. "-Yes... well, Margaret just insisted I try to ask before you left... if you would like to see our son," Jonah explained. Darlene was deeply touched by the request. "-My goodness!" That would be-" She paused, and turned to face her husband. She knew perfectly well she could not go anywhere without his consent. He tightened his jaw, considering the matter. At once, his wife immediately thought he would make an excuse that she couldn't; that they had to leave right now and there. After all, Stanley was master killjoy. However, her assumption was for once, wrong. "-Ah suppose yah could." Jest don't beh long, ahright?" Darlene nodded, in respect. "-Yes Stanley." Her husband spat in the dirt. "-Ah might as well go an git sum more water fer the beasts." He looked in the wagon, and yelled, "-Dara!" C'mere boy, give yer pa a hand, huh?" His son trotted out, dutifully, as his mother, holding the baby once again, followed Jonah back inside.

Margaret was sitting on the side of her bed, dressed in a robe, indicating she'd only awoken probably minutes ago, leaning over the cradle nearby. She smiled graciously at Darlene's entrance. "-Mrs.Warthogg... I'm glad I could see you once more before you left us," she spoke. "I had to thank you in person for your kindness and aid to my husband, last night." "-Really, Mrs.Wolfe, I'm just relieved I could be of such use to you good people, for letting us stay," the warthog told her. "-Well, thanks to you, our baby got here safely," the female wolf, insisted, with praise. All three adults were now around the cradle, admiring the little fellow curled up in it. As Jonah had said, baby Svein was a sturdy and robust young pup, with hands a size as big or perhaps slightly larger than little Graff's. He had his father's grey fur, with his mother's white fur patches on his muzzle and feet, and the bang of hair on his head, which was almost ridiculously long, was the tone of brown fur his mother also had. A tiny pink tongue slowly rolled out, as the newborn wolf gave a long yawn. He seemed to be still quite tuckered out from the experience as well; after all, he was only several hours old. The pup's eyes blinked open, to reveal his paternal inherited blue eyes. Luckily for him, Jonah's eye defect had not left a mark on the next generation. He solemnly gazed upwards at the ones above him. But his attention was caught by only one. It was not Margaret's motherly smiling, her hand gently caressing his downy lock of hair out of his eyes, or Jonah's proud fatherly shining face, or Darlene's respectful admiration. No, it was on the wide-eyed gawking look of little Graff's green eyes. Had any of the three adults looked between the infants, they would have noticed the rather odd expressions, and what almost looked like a stare-down. Svein's tiny muzzle wrinkled in a sniff, and Graff's wee mouth was twisted into some sort of pout. It was as if they KNEW something. But it was cut short, for the female warthog then spoke up, "-He's a lovely little dear." My congratulations to you both, Mr. and Mrs.Wolfe." Sadly I must be departing now." Jonah gave a nod. "-Ah yes... forgive us if we've been in an inconvinence in any way-" "-No, not at all." It was a pleasure, truly," Darlene assured him. Margaret reached out and took one of the mother warthog's hands. "-I wish you and your family a safe journey... bless you all." And I hope we shall meet again someday, Mrs.Warthogg." The warthog smiled sadly. She knew they wouldn't. "-God bless you both and your little one." I pray you a happy life," Darlene said in turn. Little did any of them know, that their blessings and best wishes were in vain. As Darlene predicted (but for different reasons) the Warthoggs and Wolfes (of this parent generation) would never meet again. Then, within the year, Jonah and Margaret would die, along with the other numerous lives that would be taken in an ambush attack on their village, by the rising clan led by an Overlade named Snively Kintobor...

The rest of the Warthogg family's journal went relatively smooth, and they were entering the Royal city of Romatropolis, in no time. Despite the fact of being Southern born and bred, Stanley seemed to adjust to the atmosphere of it instantly. Survival of the fittest, first come, first serve, and all that; it was like second nature to him, considering it was his personal nature, as well. He found work right away, in manual labour and construction. It was his sort of profession, considering the very primitive pioneer-farming setting he had came from; he had built his own home and other housing equipment. Managed to find a decent and simple place for them to live in the new area too, close enough to the local school, for the children once they were old enough, yet secluded enough, so that others minded their own business. Dara and Graff found their new place big and full of wonder and bright new things. Darlene however, opposed to her husband and babies, was just barely managing to cope. She preferred to stay at home with the little ones, only going out of the house if she HAD to, to go get something or take Dara and Graff for a walk or stroll around when they got restless. She didn't like being out there, so many eyes all around her... But then again, to be truthful, Darlene was one of those people who could get lost easily in a crowd; she would rather either keep to herself or only close friends and family. Back in their settlement in the South, people and neighbours were fewer and farther between, and Darlene was used to the peace and quiet.

But not here, she thought, rocking the baby, who was by now, napping. As she laid him down in the cradle, the front door opened with a start. It was Stanley, who no sooner had taken off his coat and hung up his things, began talking non-stop about the city news he'd heard both on the job and in the streets. "-Eh, they be sayin' the new Royal heir's bin born at last; an' a princely one at that!" God bless n' such... but they've got sum folks a sayin' that the Queen's bin cheatin' on 'er husband!" A real doozy, that's fer sure." They say that baby boy came out blinkin' blood red fur n' black-pawed, an' his sire be orange fur n' brown paws!" Ain't that sumthin?" His wife chose her words cautiously as she could. "-Well perhaps his mother is red?" Or has red relatives on either side?" she suggested. "-Aye, ah think sum were sayin' sumthin' of the like... who knows," the male muttered. "An' of course, the doctor is all insistin' that them rumours be lies; the Queen's never bin unfaithful or whatnot." Honestly don't know which side ah believe mahself!" Considerin' she's Royalty, she could certainly git away with it with all the-" Just then, the couple were interrupted by a loud wail from the baby's cradle. Darlene gave a concerned wince, and quickly rose to her feet. "-Oh Stan... all that ranting and ravening on, you've woken up the baby," she sighed, picking wee Graff up, trying to soothe the distraught infant. "-Oh hell woman, ah didn't know he was sleepin'!" her mate scoffed, irritably. Some excuse, but the female knew better than to argue. Suddenly, she felt a light tugging on her skirts. Darlene looked down to see Dara clinging onto them. "-Momma?" "-Yes sweetie?" she said gently. Her son gave a most fretful expression. "-I can't find Digger!" he cried, of his beloved plush rabbit. His mother gave a thoughtful look. "-Well, where was the last place you left him?" The young warthog bit his lip. "-I don't know..." His big green eyes looked close to tears. Naturally, Darlene's heart went out to her mournful child. "-I'll help you look in a minute, angel," she promised. "Give Momma one second." Stanley snorted scornfully, at this. "-Yeh mean that rabbit thingin?" Pish... ah didn't have no bunny toys when ah was his age... and even if ah did, ah think ah'd have at least taken better care of it!" A shrill whistling sound came shrieking from the kitchen, causing Darlene to yelp in surprise, "-Oh dear!" I left the water boiling on the-" "-Aie, ah'll take care of it!" her husband griped. "Cripes Darlene, why yah take care of so many tasks at a time, when they can all catch up to yeh like this?" He stomped loudly out of the room, before she could answer. Which was just as well, for Darlene couldn't respond; how could she explain to him that doing all these things at once seemed to be the only thing to fill the odd void of useless and silence in her life here, the only thing keeping her mind busy and sane? Overwhelmed in the moment, the female nearly started to cry. Dara tugged her dress again, more gently. "-Momma... what's wrong?" Realizing how all of that must appear to her son, the mother warthog quickly put on a brave face, and said, "-Nothing, angel-pie, it's okay... did you find your bunny?" He shook his head, but didn't seem too upset. "-No... but I can wait," he offered. Darlene smiled warmly. He seemed to understand. "-Thank you," she whispered. Dara wrapped himself around her knees, affectionately. It was a bond they shared; the mother and son. They both knew what it was like to be treated like mere beings by Stanley, to be constantly harped on and reprimanded like children, and underminded, disrespected and kept at cold distance. Together, they were their own source of confidante and comfort. They kept each other going, they made each other's day just a little more worth it, and they both made mind to keep baby Graff and any other future children, loved and wanted, just as they wanted to be...