Redhawk Caldera what is dead may never die

The decimated Caldera left something to be desired, and Panther's heart yearned for the green, for the beauty spring had given and the life summer had promised. He had traveled for miles into the surrounding territories, but had only found much of the same beyond the borders, so had returned with a heaviness set to his gait that reflected his stormy mood. The smoky wraith padded— or rather crunched— across the threshold of his new home, stepping over thousands of dead bodies, mere shells of their former destruction. He marveled at how such small creatures, in their multitudes, could leave a once beautiful land in such pure waste.

Suddenly, from the corpses jumped a mouse, and reflex sent the athletic male jerking after the morsel in a motion like whiplash. He skidded across the earth turned massive grave, and he trained his blue eyes for the small target that dodged in and out of his sight. The shifting of the insect husks seemed to make it easier to keep track of his quarry, but in the flow of things it was difficult to pick up brown fur from the browned bodies. Panther made one final, cat-like lunge, and came up with a mouthful of dead grasshoppers, but also victoriously with the mouse clipped between his fangs.

Ferret strolled by in time to see his packmate make the catch. He did not know this wolf, but he knew the smells of the wolves he did know and this wolf carried those scents with him. His narrowed stare fixated on the mouse dangling between the wolf's teeth. The boy did not hesitate, he gathered his paws and charged forward, leaping into the air with jaws open and the devil's glinting eyes as he made an attempt to snatch that mouse for himself.

Panther was surprised by the sudden appearance of his nephew, but his instant reaction was to jerk his head back, leaving the boy scrabbling madly at his chest and throat. Ferret didn't pose a threat to the adult, but his needle-like weapons scoring through black fur were a far cry from a lover's massage. Groaning, or grunting, or both, Panther kept his catch out of reach and used a long leg to push the boy down and away. This was certainly going to be a battle, but he determined that the boy would learn a lesson about manners today. And if not that (since it was unlikely), then at the very least he would come to understand the advantage of size.

His teeth clapped on air as Panther lifted the mouse out of reach of the boy, who could do no more than paw at the wolf's chest and growl his frustration as he fruitlessly bounced on his hindlegs before being shoved away. There was no getting to that mouse, and Ferret dropped to his ass with his brows pitched down over his eyes and his nose wrinkled. He stared brazenly at the black wolf, undaunted by the size difference between them. Ferret might as well have been the biggest wolf in the forest for the size of his attitude.

The boy was determined, and he flashed Panther a shit-eating grin before he dove down, teeth bared, and tried to bite the wolf's toes.