Redhawk Caldera Monster

Hoping for some family! @Peregrine @Fox @Gannet

The boy was growing to be a worrisome young lad. His physical devolpment was nothing out of the ordinary. Whip, while the famine had made him long and gangly much like his name-sake, was beginning to tack on bulk. With every passing day, he grew to resemble the brother he had never met. However, this was unbeknownst to him. To a blind eye, perhaps Whip would appear to be a normal adolescent -- but with a trained gaze, one could see something was off. One could see it in his joyless silver eyes.

He waited for the whispers, the hushed something's wrong with him from the lips of his family, but such concerns never came. They worried not for him, but the other: Lucy, who had been taken by some stranger. Her fate would be the same as Peter's, thought Whip. Dead. This time, however, the pain was much less keen... In fact, he felt none at all. He felt nothing. Numb.

And so, he carried on as usual, keeping himself along the fringes of rendezvous site and speaking to no one but himself. Even then it was only in whispers. He did not particularly enjoy the solitude, but it was where he felt most comfortable. Today however, he was not alone. In his walk, Whip spied a beetle weaving though the grass. He stopped and watched for a long while, following slowly to keep the bug within his sight. It was his friend. His only friend.

As he watched, a strange urge -- a thought -- crossed his mind. His paw hovered over the bug as it ambled about, and slowly, reluctantly, Whip brought it down over the beetle and crushed it underneath his weight. He pulled his paw away and looked down to see the bug's leg twitch a final time before falling deathly still.

This morning, he was even stiffer than usual on account of the scab developing on his shoulder blade. Peregrine cussed under his breath as he hoisted himself to his feet, then asked Fox to take a look to make sure it didn't look infected. She frowned at the wound and the Alpha sighed. He hadn't seen Ferret since the incident and Osprey's visit had done a good job of waylaying him. But he should really find his son to talk to him about his behavior.

Instead of Ferret, however, he found Whip. "Yo," Peregrine called affectionately, marveling at how much he really resembled Nightjar now that he was filling out and reaching his full adult proportions. Even their eyes matched: a dull gray, like their mother's. If they appeared particularly empty, he didn't notice. But he was well aware of Whip's withdrawn nature, being his dad and all.

"You gonna eat that?" he quipped as he drew up beside the youth, peering down at the squashed bug he appeared to be studying.

It did not take long before Whip understood what he had done, yet the realization that he had killed for no reason brought him no anguish or regret. It simply was. In fact, the act felt empowering. The beetle was a lesser creature. Existing for no reason, the bug was far beneath him. As he stared at the squashed mass, Whip felt a fleeting sense of self-importance. Perhaps this was what Peter's killer had felt like.

The thought scared Whip, but he had little time to reflect on it because he was soon joined by his father. 

As soon as Whip heard his father's voice, he quickly turned his head with eyes wide as if he had been caught in the midst of something dastardly. He was silent for a moment, but he soon addressed his father with a succient, "No," before returning his exploratory gaze to the beetle's waylaid body.

Whip seemed guilty about something, which made the corner of Peregrine's mouth to twitch. He considered jokingly asking, "May I?" and then slurping down the crushed bug in a (likely unsuccessful) attempt to amuse his son, yet he reconsidered as he watched the boy study what was left of the beetle. Perhaps there was a little bit of naturalist in him or maybe it was just garden variety curiosity.

In any case, Peregrine asked, "What're you getting into today? Have you seen your shithead of a brother?" He didn't even have to mention a name; they both knew he was talking about Ferret. The other three boys could give Peregrine a run for his money too but none were as terrible as the eldest. "I need to talk to him," he continued vaguely before his jade gaze focused on Whip's face, "although... it can wait. I wouldn't mind hanging out with you for a bit, if you're down?"

After escaping another round of 'let's play dominance', Gannet was ready for a break from his larger and much more aggressive brother.  A part of him knew the natural order of things, and that Ferret merely followed through, but the submissive boy could only take so much.  This round was rougher than others - likely due to Peregrine's snap and Ferret's own resulting mood.  So he sought out the one brother who he knew wouldn't bother him.  The one he acknowledged, that is.

When he found Whip, his tail lifted a bit from its tucked position, and he greeted both he and Peregrine with a soft woof.  Time was quickly easing Gannet's former surliness towards his parents; as long as they didn't push Jackrabbit on the pale boy, he would forgive and forget.

He wanted to be left alone, yet Peregrine persisted with even more questions. Turning his tired, forlorn gaze back to his father Whip sighed with resignation. Being a relatively sharp child (though even the most dim of all dim wits would understand), Whip merely needed the implication to know exactly who his father referred to. Ferret. Though he was his brother, Whip avoided the other boy like the plague. 

"Nothing," Whip answered, unsure of what to say. "I haven't seen him." Once again, he figured the concern of his parents' was directed elsewhere. He felt himself to be an invisible boy -- constantly overshadowed by his boisterous brother. "You can stay if you want though," the boy muttered, desperate for the attention of his family despite trying his best to hide it.

When Whip heard Gannet, his gaze followed. With about a quarter of the enthusiasm of his brother, Whip greated him with a fleeting glance. He turned his attention back to his father and blurted (seemingly out of nowhere), "Dad? What happens when we die?"

Funny how his sons were appearing from the woodwork, save for the one he wanted to sit down and talk to the most. Well, "wanted" was perhaps a misnomer. And if he had to pick, he certainly preferred the company of Gannet and Whip over Ferret most days of the week. They weren't exactly happy-go-lucky either but they didn't tend to break his skin and bones the way Ferret did.

Brushing that thought aside, Peregrine returned Gannet's woof with one of his own, then returned his gaze to the reticent Whip. He seemed so ambivalent. And then he asked a question that might have seemed odd or even shocking to some but which the Alpha male thought was probably prudent, considering the boys' childhood.

"You go to sleep. There's no more pain, only peace. But," he continued carefully, wondering if it was even possible wolves of his youngest litter's age would consider things like self-harm, "when someone dies, the pain passes onto those they left behind. That's why it's been difficult moving on after Peter's passing. We took on his pain and have to process it, along with his loss in general." He frowned thoughtfully, wondering if he'd explained that well, gaze skittering between both boys to see if his explanation sufficed.

Whip's greeting was decidedly lackaluster, and sensing something off, Gannet's ears pushed back a bit uncertainly. Pausing momentarily, his tail waved harder as he slowed down to come closer.  He didn't consider he might be intruding - he just wanted some friendly company, and usually Whip was at least a higher chance of that.  If he got close enough, he went in to bump his head lightly against Whip's side.

He only half-listened to what they conversed about.  Death wasn't something on his mind, even after Peter's demise.  He'd come to terms with the fact that sometimes, people disappeared and never came back.  Since it wasn't something he could change, he had little interest in dwelling on it.

Sleep. That was something he knew, despite the fact that sleep had been hard to come by for as long as he could remember. But, when he did, he dreamed. Vibrant dreams full of color and latent memory that had been pushed to the deepest recesses of Whip's conscious mind. In truth, his memory of his brother was hazy at best. He could barely even recall the contours of his face... Yet in his dreams, Whip could see him clearly. Peter. Yet the memory would never last for long. His face would always slip through Whip's grasp after he had woke.

He tried to understand. He truly did. The pain had come when Whip had been unable to process, and it had been intense and he had had no outlet. Like the brightest of light bulbs, the child simply burnt-out. But, now there was no pain. In fact, there was nothing at all. He felt no joy, nor anger -- just numb. Stunted like a spring flower stripped bare from a late frost. He only felt such things in dreams.

He turned his gaze from his father and brother and stared down at the beetle he had crushed beneath his paw. "Do they dream?" He asked curiously.

Gannet didn't appear very interested (which was hopefully a good thing), so Peregrine's gaze fixed on Whip's face as he chewed over this information a moment and then posed a question. It immediately reminded the Alpha of his dream about Peter. He couldn't recall specific details in any real clarity anymore, yet he still remembered well the feelings engendered by that particular dream. His lips twitched faintly as he regarded his living son.

"I'm not sure, although it's possible. You know, we don't really know what exactly happens after we die. There are lots of different beliefs. What I shared with you now is what I personally believe. Others think that when we die, we go to a place called heaven, where we get everything we've ever wanted and feel happy and safe." He didn't want to make death sound appealing to the possibly depressed youngster but he did want him to make peace with Peter's death. It was a delicate balance. "No matter what you believe, though, the general consensus is that those who're gone are at peace."

He glanced at Gannet, not wanting his pale boy to feel excluded from the conversation. "What do you think, Gan? And have you seen Ferret, by any chance?" he tacked on a little absently.

Getting absolutely zero reaction from his brother at the moment, Gannet felt a bit put out.  So instead he went to Peregrine and pulled in close to him instead, still extremely fond of cuddling in despite growing older.  It was unlikely he'd ever outgrow the penchant for physical nearness.

He didn't really have any thoughts to share in the matter of death.  They were just gone, and what happened after, no one knew right? It wasn't like anyone had ever come back to fill everyone else in, wasn't it?  He knew, on some levels now, that all life came to a close.  But he also didn't see that as a worrying thing.  No point harping on the eventual over just enjoying today.

So he ignored the question, and instead focused on the random question following.  Ferret.  He nodded somewhat meekly, his tail stilling at the thought that Peregrine might make them all go find the boy.  Gannet didn't want to go anywhere near him right now.  Staying here was better.

Since this has been sitting for well over a month, I'ma wrap it. :)

Neither one of the boys had much more to say on the subject. Perhaps Peregrine had overloaded them with information. He could see Whip in particular about to withdraw into a pensive silence. Forgetting about Ferret, Peregrine decided to seize an opportunity to hopefully distract his two better-behaved sons with something fun. Before their heavy conversation about death, Whip had been hunting bugs. Perhaps he'd like to go after something a bit bigger and more exciting?

"C'mon," the father said, poking first the nearer Gannet and, more gently, Whip. "That was kind of a heavy subject. So let's focus on something lighter. How about we work on tracking some rabbits? There's a warren at the edge of the territory I'd like to show you. C'mon," he repeated, his tone kind but also imperative. Peregrine wouldn't take no for an answer and waited for each of his sons to collect their feet before leading them off toward the eastern side of the caldera.