Redhawk Caldera Now you're calling all the boys home

AW but maybe @Towhee Jr?

Hotah stood on the ridge, scanning the valley as the pale morning light crept over the grass. The fog had lifted, but the weight in his chest hadn’t. Peregrine’s scent was gone. Every trail had gone cold. The river below murmured its cruel possibilities.

He drew a hard breath, forcing it steady. Standing still only sharpened the ache.

He lowered his head and scented the wind—deer, fox, the faint musk of elk farther out. Something he could chase. Something he could do.

Hunting wasn’t escape. Not really. But it was purpose, and purpose kept him moving.

Hotah stepped down the slope, muscles coiling as he followed the nearest trail—anything to quiet the space Peregrine used to fill for a little while.

<3!

it is early morning when towhee jr stirs from sleep, letting tzar and ghost continue to doze off, thinking that the they had earned extra hours sleeping. having to face the unfortunate fact that peregrine was gone — in one way or another — sits unwell in her heart, bringing to the forefront of her mind memories that still stung: losing her own children, the useless scrape of her claws against unyielding rock —

a soft shake of her head is given as she stretches and slips from the hobbit hole where she sleeps always at the edge, close to the entrance where she can see the sky.

her destination had been the borders to patrol but she finds her destination switching as she follows the scent of hotah instead.

Hotah was moving in a low, steady prowl when her scent reached him—fresh, purposeful, cutting through the tangle of deer and old fox tracks he’d been working. He paused at once, head lifting, breath fogging lightly in the cold air.

He didn’t turn right away.

Didn’t want her seeing the flicker of grief still tightening his jaw.

But when her steps grew close enough to feel through the frost-stiff grass, he let out a slow breath and glanced over his shoulder.

-Morning,- he said softly, voice rough from disuse and sleeplessness.

He shifted just enough that she could fall into step beside him if she wanted, muscles still taut with the leftover coil of the hunt.

His gaze returned to the trail ahead as he added, quieter:

-Didn’t mean to wake anyone. Just… needed to move.-

A brief pause, then a sidelong look—worn, but grateful.

-You looking for me?-

-morning.- steps pause to allow towhee to sign the return greeting in ptero. scents of fox and deer draw to towhee jr's attention that she might've interrupted and intercepted hotah in the middle of hunting. sheepish expression makes its home upon her expression, ears fluttering to rest at half mast atop her skull; useful only in helping her communicate through body language.

ha! the noise of amusement is breathy, soft in her throat; felt in the vibration of her vocal chords. -i'm not easy to wake, so do not worry.- ghost and to her chagrin tzar have mastered the effect of waking her: usually by nipping her notched ear or shoving her shoulder until she awoke.

-i was on my way to patrol but i crossed your scent trail and figured i'd see if you wanted company.-

Hotah paused when she stepped up beside him, one brow lifting in a small, rueful way as it finally clicked.

Right. She couldn’t hear a damn thing.

He let out a soft scoff at himself and signed, slower this time so she’d catch every bit of it.

-Didn’t wake you, then.-

A faint grin tugged at his mouth, the kind he only wore around her or Towhee.

-Good. Means I’m not stomping around like a moose.-

He shifted to let her fall into stride beside him, his head dipping in genuine appreciation.

-Kind of you to join me.-

He flicked his muzzle toward the trail ahead, the rich thread of deer-scent curling through the cold air.

-Hunting.-

Then that warm, teasing edge slipped back into his expression as he signed the rest:

-Want to bring Amalia something good.-

A beat. A small shrug.

-Figured she deserves it.-

He resumed his prowl, glancing at Jr again—not asking, just quietly pleased she’d chosen to walk with him.

-definitely not a moose,- towhee jr reaffirms, expression and movement of her paws turning teasing, almost sly. -more like baby moose. not enough to wake me.- another sound — towhee jr's version of laughter — leaves her; taking in his smile, pleased with herself.

towhee jr's is content to linger in the stillness her 'silence' provides, gaze focused on his lips, glad that she'd learned to read them ( eventually ) even if it had felt very unnatural to her at first.

-leading a pack and raising children is not an easy task, i imagine.- towhee jr signs, thinking to herself that she was grateful she'd never done both at the same time.

Hotah’s grin tugged wider at baby moose, and he bumped her shoulder with a light, teasing nudge.

He signed back, quick and amused:

-Baby moose is still loud.-

A soft breath left him—almost a laugh—before her next signs pulled his expression tighter, dimming the humor. -Yeah. She's great.-

He looked away for a moment, jaw flexing once, then lifted his paw again, slower this time.

-Can we… not talk pups?-

His gaze found hers, tired but honest.

-Still… hard.-

He let the air settle between them, then added, quieter:

-Hunting helps. I think.-

-in my defense,- jr signs, low snort pushing past her nostrils. -i wouldn't know.- she doesn't know sounds to be able to put vibrations to them but she can at least interpret vibrations. the deeper the vibration, the louder she assumes something is. not unlike scents. if a scent is faint, towhee jr imagines it is a whisper and if it is glaringly in her face she imagines it is screaming.

-i'm sorry. of course. i didn't mean to upset you.- towhee jr's ears slick back to her head, averting her gaze. she understands, the new year approaches and with it the year anniversary of what had felt like the end of her own life. even almost a year later, it stung. -i understand. anything to help ease the pain.-

-i'm ... i don't know amalia well.- if at all. had she met her in any capacity before? she didn't think so. killdeer was at least kin — though that wasn't at much saying anything. she had a lot of family spread far and wide. -i should probably remedy that.- considering the woman was, in fact, her leader.

Hotah shook his head before she even finished signing, a quiet reassurance softening his features. He brushed her shoulder with his muzzle—brief, gentle.

He lifted his paw:

-It’s okay. You did not mean it.-

Another sign, smoother:

-We bring kill to her.-

He offered a small smile at her mention of Amalia, warm despite everything.

-She will like you.-

Then his head snapped slightly to the side, nostrils flaring as a new scent threaded through the cold morning air—fresh, close.

His posture shifted in an instant, muscles tightening beneath his coat. He signed quickly:

-Elk. Young.-

A glance toward the brush ahead, the faint drum of hooves vibrating the ground.

-This way.-

the phantom press of his muzzle to her shoulder lingers even after the touch is gone. the assurance that amalia will like her is something that towhee jr turns 'round in her mind as they move, keeping her mind busy and her paws still in terms of signing. there is a part of her that cannot help but wonder if others actually like her or if it was something said because of her mother.

she wasn't always the easiest to get along with, and she knew that; disabilities aside. she had the penchant to be cold and angry and prickly and bullheaded ( all traits she sees prominently in her son ) her edges smoothed some with maturity, leadership and motherhood but still there. -maybe...,- towhee jr signs after some thought.

she is distracted from her thoughts by hotah and his signing of a young elk. her inner thoughts are turned low, eager to focus upon the new task.

sage nod is given as she follows hotah closely, nostrils flaring as she scents the air, keeping the press of her paws against frozen earth soft.

Hotah caught her maybe, the hesitation tucked inside it, and gave a small grunt of quiet certainty—nothing flowery, just a simple conviction as he signed back:

-She will.-

But there was no time to linger on it. The elk’s scent grew sharper, warmer, pulling him into focus. His posture dropped smoothly into a hunter’s stance, muscles coiling beneath his fur. He flicked a look toward Jr, meeting her eyes for only a heartbeat before signing:

-Stay close.-

Then another, sharper motion:

-Circle left.-

He took the right automatically, shoulders rolling in a low, powerful prowl as he scanned for movement through the frost-hardened brush.

focus shifts wholly to the hunt and away from whatever small insecurity had come over towhee jr moments before. she watches hotah posture switch, automatic. seamless. tracker to hunter. if towhee jr had blinked she'd have missed it.

her body responds the same, gaze peering over frostladen flora, relying upon it, and her scent to guide her way.

she cuts left when hotah signs the instruction, head lowering, level with her shoulders, prowl confident and gaze hawk-sharp, seeking their quarry.

Hotah slipped into position without a sound, body lowering into that familiar, lethal crouch. His shoulders rolled forward, weight balanced perfectly over his paws as he tracked the elk’s every twitch through the frost-heavy brush.

He held the right flank with practiced precision, breath slow, gaze sharp.
One step.
Another.
Muscles coiling.
Waiting.

When Jr veered left, he shifted just enough to mirror her, forming the tight pincer they’d used before. He didn’t look at her—didn’t need to. He felt her presence, her intent, the rhythm of her movement guiding his own.

The elk bolted.

Hotah moved instantly, lunging from the brush with explosive force, jaws parting as the prey barreled straight toward him—driven perfectly into the trap she’d set.

hotah and her move as a team; effective. deadly. that they could communicate in the most simplest of way, following the cues of body language that existed long before words. that she knew how to move to guide their quarry into his awaiting jaws.

for a moment her gaze locks with the elk's: pupils blown wide with undiluted fear. predator acknowledging her prey moments before it's fight or flight is triggered. lucky for towhee jr, it triggers flight.

she dodges the swing of the elk's heavy head as it bolts when she gets close to it's flank to snap at it when it tries to veer away from hotah. teeth aim for its heel as she drops and slows her pace as quarry and huntress draw nearer; gaze seeking hotah.

Hotah read her shift without needing a sound. The moment the elk’s pupils blew wide and it broke into flight, he was already moving—angling in, matching her rhythm, the two of them closing like jaws on a hinge.

Jr’s snap at its flank sent the animal veering exactly where he needed it. He adjusted a fraction, muscles tightening beneath his coat as he prepared for the impact.

Her eyes found him.

He answered with a sharp, decisive surge forward, cutting across the elk’s path to meet it head-on—just as she’d driven it.

towhee jr finds hotah's gaze in the chaos, the tremor of the calm before a storm as she watches him surge towards the elk. flanks rise and fall with each heavy breath, keeping a tight circle as she did before. ensuring that she was near and attentive if hotah needed her for backup.

she doubted he would but the hunt wasn't finished until their quarry drew its last breath.

Hotah felt her presence tracking him even before her shape cut through the corner of his vision—steady, controlled, exactly where she needed to be. It anchored him in the chaos, sharpened his focus to a fine edge.

He didn’t look back, but he registered her: the tight arc of her circle, the readiness in her stride, the promise of backup if he needed it. It slid into place beside his own intent like a second heartbeat.

He closed the last stretch in a burst of power, jaws clamping hard as his weight slammed into the elk’s shoulder. The animal stumbled under the force, legs buckling, momentum breaking.

Hotah dug in, dragging it down, confident—utterly—that if anything slipped, if anything went wrong, Jr was already there, teeth and fury at his flank.

They hunted as one.
And in that breath before the kill settled, he trusted her completely.

towhee jr's flanks rise and fall with pressed breaths, golden gaze watching as their quarry draws its last breath. she makes another circle, to ward off the lasting vestiges of adrenaline still pulsing through her veins and to make sure there were no others lurking in the shadows.

content, she moves back to hotah's side.

-good job.- she offers with the smooth movement of her paws in ptero.

Hotah stayed braced over the elk until its final shudder eased into stillness, breath misting in slow, controlled streams. Only when he was certain the fight was gone did he lift his head, ears angling toward Jr as her circle tightened and stilled beside him.

Her presence settled the last flicker of instinct in his blood.

He rose from the carcass, shoulders rolling as he shook out the tension, then turned to meet her movements. The clean lines of her ptero drew a small, quiet huff from him—half pride, half amusement.

He touched her shoulder with a light bump before signing back:

-You too.-

Then he bent to the kill, ready to start the clean work of carving what they needed from their success.