Redhawk Caldera trash this place, destroy the sun

For @Whip! Totally just assuming that the parentals said no to Lucca wanting to fight at the meeting lmao

After the meeting, Lucca had stormed off uncharacteristically, fury silently simmering underneath an indignant frown. In the days following, especially with the arrival of the fearsome Drageda wolves, his mood only soured further. While he had absolutely no training, and was repeatedly bested by his smaller siblings (especially Clover, the smallest of them all), the boy still wanted to fight. He was a momma's boy, in truth, not suited to a battlefield at all, yet he had developed a strong sense of duty to protect — whether that was worms from birds or his siblings from intruders.

Today, instead of his usual speeding about, he was lying on a rock overlooking the den area, head in oversized paws and glaring up at the tree-line. The angry pout on his still boyish features could almost be cute, but the child would snap at anyone who tried to speak to him. Yet while appearances implied that he was merely sulking, in his head, Lucca formulated an escape plan.

Oh my God. I am so sorry for the wait on this.

The children of the Caldera, particulalry Finley and Elwood's brood, were petulent and undisciplined in their wild emotions. Whip had seen such behavior at the conclusion of the meeting. He had seen the fire burning behind the eyes of that young boy; the spirit of rebellion. He saw it. He understood it. He felt it too. For as hard as the sirens of the coast tried to supress this unkillable part of Whip, he could not be broken. In his heart was a monsterous amalgamation of anger, rage, and fear -- and it made him stronger. Stronger than those who sought to do him harm.

With the war coming, it was what he needed to be. It was what all of them needed to be. Including the boy.

After picking up the boy's scent, Whip returned to the densite of long ago. He'd grown up here before moving to the rendezvous site with the rest of his now absent siblings. The ghosts of the past haunted him even here. He found the boy glowering upon a rock, seething with childish anger. It was beautiful and something to be nurtured and grown.

Whip made his approach, but he stopped a few paces away. "I know what you want," said Whip. His voice was completely matter-of-fact. Monotone. He wanted it too.