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	The following few weeks went by at a surprisingly fast rate.  Carson's finished pile of enchanted clothing grew enough for Starla to have clean outfits for a solid two weeks, though she had specifically requested for him not to make her any undergarments, much preferring the freedom of looser clothing instead.  Every morning the couple awoke together, dressed, then headed out for a few hours of combat practice, followed by mid-morning runs together.  Afternoons were calmer as Carson worked and Starla unwound herself from their practices, be it through stretching, snacking, or resorting to writing and journaling in her free time.

	These events, however, did not run quite like clockwork, as Starla's powerful urge to mate was much less predictable.  Some mornings, Carson awoke to Starla attempting to mount him, while some evenings she would return from a run to bathe, exiting the bathroom completely nude and dropping her heavy breasts atop Carson's head from his seat on the sofa.  At first, Carson obliged to satisfy her urges, but week after week he encouraged her to channel that energy, at least temporarily, into her training for a few hours.  At times it was painful for Starla to resist, but Carson never left her unsatisfied, and waiting until the evening to have her fun was a small price to pay.  The reward was always worthwhile, and not a day went by where they didn't share at least one tryst, no matter how much, or little, energy her grandfather had by day's end.

	Talking had become much easier between the pair by the day, and gradually Starla had confided in her grandfather about the various major events of her life, her youth, and her aspirations to join SI:7.  Carson, however, yet remained tight-lipped about his own past... until the final evening of week three came upon them.  Starla had far from forgotten their promise, and that evening she found her chance as Carson had seated himself on his usual sofa.  "Alright, Papa Wolf," she echoed as she plopped down on the sofa across from him, sporting a vibrant blue, knee-length nightshirt he'd lovingly tailored for her at her request.  "How've I been doing?"

	Carson had put up his stoic front almost immediately.  "Well."

	Starla grinned cheekily as she clutched a cup of hot tea between her clawed hands.  "Well enough?"

	The silver-furred worgen snorted.  "You have made spectacular progress in a very short span of time," he admitted reluctantly.  "You're using your instinct [i]and[/i] your wits during combat, your runs have gained routine and don't stray far, and your... urges seem to have gained a rhythm as well."

	A gentle blush crossed Starla's white cheeks as she sipped her tea.  "Then I believe you owe me a story tonight, as per our agreement... unless you think I should stop trusting your word, of course."

	Carson's eye hardened as he lowered his work.  "Must I?"

	Her smile faded a bit.  "I... I guess you don't [i]have[/i] to, but it would be nice to know more.  And you [i]did[/i] swear you would."

	Her grandfather let out a low growl of defeat as his entire body seemed to shrink just a bit.  "Very well.  Tell me what you wish to know."

	Starla's expression turned serious, though her words were yet gentle, almost hesitant.  "Tell me why my mother... distanced herself from you."

	Another snort escaped him as he leaned forward and laced his fingers together, propping his elbows on his knees and turning his eye to the floor.  "How much do you know of your family history?"

	The rogue paused for a few moments in thought.  "Mother hasn't told me much," she admitted.  "She told me my dad died when I was little, but she wouldn't tell me how."

	"I figured as much."  His lengthy pauses assured that he was struggling on how to word things.  "The history of the Shadowclaw family is not a pleasant one.  I was among one of the first to become afflicted when the worgen breached the city.  The alchemists reclaimed my sanity like many of our kind, and over the years I was able to help reclaim the city itself for our people.  King Greymane bestowed the 'Shadowclaw' name upon me for my service to the kingdom."

	Starla's eyes widened in surprise.  "You were a rogue?"

	"I was one of our king's best spies," he returned.  "For my service, Greymane gave me land and a comfortable home to start a family with.  I met your grandmother during my service, and together we had our two daughters, Dorothea and Diana, but this was a... unique union.  They became the first of a second generation of curse-afflicted Gilneans.  It was apparent from the moment Dora came into this world that she, too, was afflicted.  And thus began the process of learning how to... well, raise and parent a worgen [i]born[/i] with the curse.  Thankfully, we were not the only ones reproducing at the time, and many of us worked in a united effort to try and wrangle the half-feral younglings.  Together, we gradually formed a reliable method that you've basically been undergoing."

	"I have an aunt..." she murmured to herself in surprise.  The snow-furred worgen hung onto his every word, but couldn't help but ask.  "Does... does that include the sex?"

	For the first time, Starla noted the flush in Carson's silver cheeks, but still he stared at the floor.  "That was the one part we never truly nailed down.  It wasn't an issue until the young ones matured.  Some eventually ran wild, others were tolerated until they grew out of the phase.  The growing out part, however, was not guaranteed."  Here, Carson paused to inhale deeply, his arched back quivering just a touch before continuing.  "A few weeks after your mother turned eighteen, I caught her in the cellar of our home, naked and furiously clawing at the walls.  The itch to mate had consumed her entirely, and when she was about to pounce on me, I closed the door on her and latched it tight.  Unsure of what to do, I relayed what had happened to your Grandma Rachel, who presented the only solution she could think of."

	"Which was...?" Starla added, leaning forward in her seat with bated breath.

	"... to go in and... indulge her," he admitted.  "As soon as she had had her way, it was like a switch had been flipped in her mind, and my Dorothea had returned.  In the process, however, her frantic clawing had taken my eye, and she ended up bawling her eyes out when she saw what she'd done to me."