Redhawk Caldera The crisis in the crossfire

all welcome

He avoided the borders pointedly, and mostly kept to the borders of the lake at the heart of the territory. He was still a bit leery of wading in too deep, as that dropoff scare had frightened him quite a bit. But he'd remembered some of his earliest hunting experience had been scouting out muskrat lodges along the banks of the lake, and decided that he might try to hunt a bit, and start earning his keep. Fennec and her feathery friends had been helping him mend in the meantime. 

He wondered if he should track down Killdeer and see if he was interested in a lesson, but he didn't want to overwhelm the boy. So he saw fit to meander along the lake's edge, squinting his eyes against the light of the morning sun that reflected off the surface, trying to sniff out some recent muskrat tracks.

Overwhelmed, schmoverwhelmed. Killdeer didn't know the emotion.

Hi! he declared loudly, trotting quick to catch up with his. . .father. It was still weird to think about, but he was getting used to it. He drew alongside a tawny hind leg, gazing up at Bronco, questioning. Whatcha lookin' for?

For the man was undeniably on the hunt; he knew the body language from his own mother. He didn't want to be a bother, but at the same time. . . There was lost time to make up. And when better than now?

His nostrils flared, nose flexing comically. Stinky, he declared, eyes narrowed.

While he hadn't intended to catch any attention while hunting, it did still warm his heart to catch sight of his son approaching when he caught the boy's scent on the air. He still couldn't get over how much the boy had grown- and how much he resembled Towhee, at least in terms of his fur colour. Perhaps it was a pattern just waiting to skip a generation. 

He nodded as he greeted the youngster, and while Bronco had spent the majority of his youth playing with and raising younger siblings...This was different. This kid was his. It made him feel a little bit more pressure, but fortunately, he'd at least had enough experience raising kids before that this wasn't something completely out of the blue for him. The stakes were slightly higher now that he was a Dad- but he found himself also so much more proud of his son because of it. 

"Hey, varmint," He said, his nose wrinkling sympathetically with Killdeer's comment. -"We're hunting muskrat,"- He said. He may as well continue the process of teaching Killdeer Ptero, so it might live on for yet another generation. -"But not looking like that. Come here a sec,"- He said, turning so he could reach the boy's temple. And with a brisk flick of his tongue from the back of Killdeer's head and over his brow, he messed up the fur so that it stood up, spiky. He then bowed his own head. -"Now you do mine. It's important to look the part when you're hunting muskrat."- He fibbed, with as much conviction as he could muster.

He grinned at the greeting, though he didn't know what 'varmint' meant. Couldn't be all that bad, from the affectionate way Bronco said it. His eyes widened, intrigued and a little bewildered as he tried to pay attention to the words and follow the ptero all at once. When his father began to muss his fur, Killdeer giggled, squirming a little under the ministrations.

-Gramma,- he said, remembering the sign for that word—and then promptly forgetting all the rest. Gramma's gonna make me take a bath later. She was very good at keeping him clean and presentable.

But he obliged, rearing up a little to reach Bronco's dark golden crown. What's muskrat? Killdeer asked, concentrating on making the hair as spiky as possible. When he leaned back to observe his work, he giggled again, seeing the noble man before him look positively disheveled.

Bronco was pleased to see Killdeer respond with Ptero, which meant that Towhee was likely teaching him. At the mention of a bath, Bronco laughed, jaw chattering a bit as he lowered his head for Killdeer to reach. "Well we're both gonna need a bath later 'cause hunting muskrats gets pretty muddy." Maybe he'd get the kid to at least rinse off in the lake afterwards, so he wasn't bringing a total swampmonster over to Towhee to clean later. Or maybe they should both just show up like swampmonsters and Towhee might go for a swim with them, then. They could figure that out later. 

He tried to look up to see how messed up the fur was on his forehead, and ended up getting slightly, comically cross-eyed because of it. He exaggerated the facial expression for a minute, for comedic effect, before he smiled. -"Perfect. Thanks."- He said, and then gestured for Killdeer to follow him toward one of the closest muskrat lodged along the side of the lake. A dark tunnel had been dug into the mud long ago- this lodge was likely abandoned, but it was at least a good way for the kid to get a close up look at what a muskrat lodge looked like. 

-"Muskrats are food. They live near lakes and rivers, and look kind of like smaller beavers, but with a rat's tail."- He explained. "-Sometimes they live in a pile of sticks and stuff, like beavers do, or sometimes they have these tunnels, like this one, so they can go from their den underground and into the water. Oh! If you look out there, way out there in the lake- you see that little dark thing moving through the water? That's a muskrat."- He said. He reached out to tweak a couple of the hairs on the top of Killdeer's head, making sure they were still standing up. -"You wanna go take a closer look?"-

Just as Bronco had intended, the cross-eyes elicited more laughter from Killdeer, and the boy mirrored the expression right back. But they reverted to normal as his father explained, and at the exclamation, the gesture, he peered across the water, staring hard at the far-off creature.

Big rat, he remarked, brows lifting high. He'd seen rats before; they liked to burrow in fallen leaves and pine needles, and he'd come close to catching them once or twice. Long, stringy tails. This thing looked. . .well, a lot larger. 

In fact, it kind of reminded him of what he and the Redhawk she-wolves had fought off that one time, and he battled back some trepidation. Is'it dang'rous? Killdeer slurred, putting to use one of his newly acquired vocab words, albeit sliding freely along each of the many syllables. 

Towhee's absence had made him a little more fearful. Without his grandma around, the foundation of his life had gotten a bit more rocky. His father's re-appearance had made it more so. He'd found himself more riskaverse lately, though he'd deny it to anyone who'd ask.

"Mmhmm!" He said, nodding. Maybe saying the muskrat was more like a small beaver would've been a better description, but it seemed like the kid got the idea anyway. 

His confidence seemed to falter a bit, and Bronco had to wonder why a kid would worry so much about something being dangerous. Wasn't he a bit young to be so wary? Or had he seen something happen? Bronco tried to stay casual and confident, but he wasn't about to lie to Killdeer. He also didn't want his son to be foolish and brazen. -"Y'know, there's a trick to hunting each type of prey, and all prey animals have something we should be careful about. It's what they use as defense, to protect themselves."- He explained. -"Some have long front  teeth, and some have claws too, or antlers. Porcupines have quills, and skunks have a really stinky spray. Muskrats, I think, just have two long front teeth. But y'know what?"- He asked, pausing for effect, before he grinned. -"Ours are longer."-

He listened to his father, and then nodded fervently. Yeah! he answered, baring his own growing teeth. He felt better, thinking that Bronco seemed to know what he was doing. He fell in line beside the older wolf, readying himself for the challenge.

So now what? he asked, raising his brows in query. 

He wasn't one to try new things without approval—well, at least without the approval of those he admired. And Bronco was definitely one of those. He lifted his chin, waiting, a faint smile upon his face.

The glint of Killdeer's pearly canines made something in the back of Bronco's mind seethe and cringe. But the droll, upwards tug of his son's lips convinced the rational part of his mind that Killdeer was just having fun. Mirroring him, even. The shock of that knee-jerk reaction didn't prey upon his own features, but he did reflect for a moment and wonder if he was training his son to be hostile. Maybe he should concentrate on teaching him to be cautious, not overconfident. He could do that. 

His son looked up to him; it still felt so strange to have Killdeer be a living, breathing, thinking and talking creature when he'd been an infant the last time he'd seen him. So much had changed- and he'd missed the boy's earliest development. He was struggling to keep up now, but trying to do his best. 

"Well, we're gonna go along the edge of the lake, and try to look for fresh tracks or fresh scent. If we can find where they live, we'll have a better chance of catching one." He said. "But we're gonna have to try to catch one on, or close to land. They're better swimmers than we are...But I think I might have an idea, if we see one." He said. He gave his son a sideling glance. "Have you learned how to swim yet?" He asked.

He seized upon the challenge with alacrity, hanging onto Bronco's every word. At the question, he paused, then shook his head. Not really, he admitted. But Gramma's thrown me in a lot of puddles—I can learn! He was earnest, tail wagging as he stared up at his father with a grin.

Without being prompted, Killdeer moved closer to the water, getting his ankles wet. He wasn't. . .scared, per se, just a little uneasy. It was a lot of new things all at once—including the concept of a father.

But he could learn. He'd said so.

His bright golden eyes kept dead aim on Bronco, waiting for the older wolf's next move.

Puddles. Well, it didn't surprise him to hear that Towhee was enjoying being a grandmother, though it was a bittersweet joy. It pained him to think his own mother was missing out on the opportunity to be a grandmother too- but he felt a bit of relief as well, a relief that made him feel lightly ashamed. If Niamh had been around he probably would've been hurled into the lake, not just into puddles. He didn't mind that his son would miss out on learning things the very hard way. 

"Okay," He said, his lips almost pulling into a wan smile. He wouldn't toss his son into the lake either, so his tactics would have to change. If Killdeer wasn't a strong swimmer, he couldn't very well swim out and herd a muskrat toward the shore- but he might just prevent one from making its escape via the lake. 

"So, plan is," He said in a lowered voice. Once Killdeer learned Ptero, it'd be easier to communicate silently- for now, he'd whisper.  "I'm gonna go for that lodge there, see those holes in the bank? I'm gonna make a racket and try to spook one out, if there's one inside. All I need you to do is lay low in the shallows- and if one comes out, see if you can scare it back toward me. Clear as mud?" He asked.