Redhawk Caldera gravity is a myth; the earth sucks!

Ferret nosed around the barren site, the black leather at the end of his snout brushing past the bodies of the dead, dry, crispy locusts. His ears were folded back. The bugs were gone and their bodies were boring to him now. Even the usual small animals were scarce, and he looked around pointedly hoping to see a squirrel, a bird, or something. But he saw nothing. The boy inhaled a deep breath and dropped to his rump, expelling his breath in a sigh such that the tail end of it came out as a whistle. His ears flicked upward, his lips now formed in an 'O' of surprise at this new sound that he made.

His pause was short lived. Soon his black-dipped tail started tapping against the ground with a devilish spark lighting up his eyes. Ferret pursed his lips and blew again, delighted to make yet another whistle. Soon, the bandit was whistling all manner of notes and was bouncing and frolicking around his homestead with the discovery. Overhead, a chickadee fluttered by and alighted on a bare branch, drawing Ferret's attention immediately. He stopped and stared at the small bird as it turned and canted its head, peering back at him.

When Elwood heard a whistle, he paused in his step, ears pivoting. Was that a bird? Could that mean that other prey was returning to the caldera? He hastened towards the source of the sound, yellow eyes roving the barren surroundings in search of the avian.

When his gaze landed on a chickadee, its little black feet grasping a spindly, naked branch, he looked down sharply. He hoped to see something, anything that could be made into a meal -- but instead, he found the mischievous Ferret. The boy's lips were pursed into an o-shape, and as Elwood pressed his ears forward, he realized that it was the puppy that had been whistling.

He was slightly disappointed, but also found the boy's spunk endearing. The lack of food wasn't bothering him in the least, it seemed. Elwood puckered his own lips and gave a chirp, watching Ferret for a reaction.

Ferret's eyes were trained on the bird, and the bird continued to focus on him. For a short while at least before it decided to preen its feathers and look around in other directions, and squirt out a white blob of crap that Ferret watched descend. It was at this time his uncle chirped, and the bandit swung around to face him, ears lifted high with interest.

Mimic mode was engaged, so he chirped right back, matching Elwood's tone and volume as the bird flitted to another branch and soon to a different tree altogether. Ferret lifted his muzzle then, brows raised and lips smirking, as if to challenge his uncle a la, is that the best you got?

The boy's attention was drawn away from the bird and to his uncle. In a way that was almost uncanny, Ferret perfectly imitated the sound that had just come from Elwood's lips. Out of the corner of his eye, Elwood saw the bird move to another bare tree, landing on one of its naked branches.

There was clearly a challenge in Ferret's expression, so Elwood sucked in another breath. He whistled again, this one lower in pitch. This wasn't a particular talent of his, but he held the note as long as he could, until he had to stop in order to refill his lungs.

Nearby, the chickadee tilted its head, watching the wolves quizzically.

Elwood answered the challenge with a long, low note. Ferret shifted his shoulders and wiggled his butt, not unlike a cat about to pounce at the feather on the end of the string. But he did not pounce, he sucked in the biggest breath he could until the air puffed out his cheeks. Then he blew hard, but for all his budding talent in mimicry, he completely failed to whistle with his determined effort. Instead, the only thing Elwood got in reply was a drawn out and spitting, bubbling noise like a pinched fart that had been held in too long.

Elwood watched as Ferret prepared himself to give a whistle in response. But what came from the pup's mouth was not what he expected. Apparently, the boy put a bit too much force behind his exhale, for his lips came together and it wasn't a trill that came out, but a series of spit bubbles.

Unable to disregard the humor of the situation, Elwood dissolved into laughter. When he caught his breath a moment later, he stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry back in Ferret's direction, wondering if the young firebird would find it amusing or be frustrated by his failed whistle.

His uncle laughed at him. Ferret's ears shot forward sharply, as if they were daggers in the hand of a street punk who brandished them threateningly. The boy squared himself toward Elwood, his snout levelled and his tail stiffened behind him. Laughing at others was his game; he was not to be laughed at. Ferret barked loudly as he launched forward, and continued to bark with each inelegant hop he made as he bounded and charged for the pack's beta. Toes, he had learned, were a fairly easy target, and his bared teeth went right for Elwood's right forepaw.

Preoccupied by his chortling and spit-bubbling, Elwood didn't notice the swift change in Ferret's demeanor. Nor was he aware when the boy suddenly moved towards him, teeth bared like tiny weapons. It wasn't until they pressed into his toes that he stopped laughing; he reeled backwards, jerking his paws away from his nephew's grip with a bark of surprise.

"Hey! Watch it," he said, backpedaling quickly. He paused long enough to lift up his right forepaw and hold it close to his face, observing the tiny pinpricks of blood that had surfaced. "Ouch," he said loudly and sourly, frowning as he looked back at Ferret. Somehow, he imagined that the tactic that had worked with Peter wouldn't be so successful with his brother.

Ferret stood his ground, grinning impishly, after his unsuspecting uncle had felt the bite of his teeth and took a few paces backward. Elwood was correct in doubting how effective saying 'ouch' would be against the pack's bandit; all the sour word managed to do was make the boy laugh in a drawn out, devilish heeeeee!, punctuated by him leaning forward and clicking his teeth. Elwood had his work cut out from him if he thought he could teach troublepaws that biting was not a fun thing to do.

Ferret reminds me of one of my more "challenging" students this year. :P

The boy laughed. He laughed. Elwood's eyes widened, then abruptly narrowed. Sure, he was only a father once over, but he had been around for the raising of the first firebirds and considered himself decently knowledgeable in handling children. But neither Eljay nor Wildfire and her littermates had ever behaved this way, and he was surprised.

Briefly, he thought about biting him back. He debated whether Peregrine and Fox would think it was funny or horrible. Naturally, he decided that it would be the latter and quickly pushed the thought from his mind. He was much too practical to do something like that. Instead, he gave Ferret a pointed glance, then turned and began to walk away. If Ferret wasn't going to play nice, then Elwood wouldn't play with him at all.

haha! He's just an ass. ^^; You can archive or post again.

Elwood made to leave, and Ferret took this not as a bad thing, but as another triumph. He howled a song of mockery, gloating behind his uncle's back, and then proceeded to strut and peacock back and forth, tossing his head and swishing his tail like a colt, just in case Elwood cared to look. How fierce was he, how awesome, that a single bite alone could make bigger wolves leave. He was feeling mighty again, and strolled off to find other mischief, of course.