Redhawk Caldera The best ever death metal band out of Denton

Peregrine was no mind reader, yet he was well aware there was something amiss with Whip. The boy was quiet and withdrawn no matter how much the Alpha male tried to engage him. He was out of reach. That didn't stop the father from noticing, trying or caring. But he wasn't sure what he could do. Whip's remoteness thwarted him at every turn. And Peregrine's recent feelings of inadequacy didn't help matters. If anything, his inability to touch base with Whip only further convinced him that he was an unfit parent.

When the swarthy wolf returned to the rendezvous site following a late patrol and smelled blood, he frantically tracked it and found Whip shuffling about with shredded legs. "What the fuck happened?" he blurted, looking at his son's face as realization slowly dawned on him. Peregrine was immediately reminded of Junior and it made his stomach drop in horror. "Why?" The word ripped out of him in a keening sort of wail. It both was and was not directed solely at Whip.