Redhawk Caldera Neverland

The prodding didn't help much at all. Just as Peregrine opened his mouth to lift the pup and right him himself, Smol exploded into another round of sneezes. The father's amused smirk crinkled into a slight frown. "You're not getting sick, are you?" he asked in a slightly tight voice. He thought of "Derp." Even though his pale firstborn son hadn't fallen victim to an illness, the memory of his death still lingered in the father's head, especially when it came to Smol.

Hopefully if he did catch a cold, it wouldn't be anything fatal. In the meantime, Peregrine made a point to scrub his tongue over the runty infant's face, concentrating on his nose. His tongue was much too large and broad to fit into the puppy's nostrils, else Peregrine would have undoubtedly attempted to clear them for him. It was no worse than cleaning up any other bodily fluid anyhow.