Redhawk Caldera There's a random painted highway and a muzzle of bees

Sorry for the wait on this one! I've been so swamped with important threads for Reek that I haven't been able to keep up with Whip threads.

"Biiiiiiiirb," he repeated, yearningly. His attention was so enraptured by his new feathered friend/possible meal that he had nearly forgotten about the tussle with his brothers mere moments ago. However, the sparrow was so out of reach. Whip inched closer to the tree in which it had found its perch and placed his paws upon the bark. Pointing his muzzle upward, he moaned "Plaaaaay birrrrb." He only wanted it to come down for a second... just so he could eat him real quick.

Whip's trance-like state, however, was broken by an unfamiliar voice. His paws remained unmoved and firmly planted on the tree, but his head craned around to see a wolf he had yet to meet. The word he said, shit -- that was familiar. Peter had gotten in the habit of saying it incessantly, and while Whip didn't exactly know the meaning to it, he wondered if it had anything to do with the bird that had snagged his attention. "Shit-birb?" he curiously mumbled.