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(This peom is related to "Suddendusk & Quick Fang's Recognition" - see listing for more related stories.) He doesn't look like him - that's obvious and plain Why, then, do I dream - why do I hope in vain? A cubling in my arms, my first and brightest light To shelter him from harm - to keep him in my sight To teach him through the nights, to hold him through the days To watch him take to flight - to have him fade away I had more luck than some - I have another child Her time had also come, though tumulus and wild She'll have one soon as well, a girl or little boy I know I shouldn't dwell on lost and broken joy. But I can't help but think... sweet Otter, look at me Oh, do I see a link, a hint that might yet be? Did something of his eyes, did something of his face Did not forever die, but lives through last embrace? I had more luck than most; I know it through my pain Against what I have lost I weigh another gain Why can't I help but dream of cubs with snowy furs Together by the stream - one his, the other hers? Sweet Otter, one more glance, please let my eyes explore And seek another chance - another and some more And if I look enough, perhaps it might yet seem - Oh Whitestag, cubling, love - No. He doesn't look like him.
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