Redhawk Caldera this world is yours to take

For a long time, the boy remained face-down in the grass, enjoying the new scents and sensations flooding his brain. Down there he could smell the grass itself, the sugars coursing through its plant-y veins, the dirt underfoot and all the bacteria that lived in it, the water hidden below the surface, and a thousand other things. It was like all the stimul in the world had concentrated themselves and resided here in the ground. It took him several minutes just to process and file away each scent.

When he did raise his head, it was to see Wildfire somersaulting. Triggered by her playful behaviour and giggles, Nightjar slowly found his feet and began toddling toward her. He was unable to run yet—that skill would come later and would take much longer to master—but he could walk fairly steadily. Eventually, he was standing practically on top of her.

As instinct dictated, he let his chest fall to the ground, leaving his rump sticking up in the air, and yapped encouragingly for her to try to catch him as he very slowly turned and began bumbling away. It would surely be the lamest game of tag ever, but it served a dual purpose; it would get Wildfire moving, perhaps. Instinct said this was a very good, educational game. His mind, as always, didn't say much of anything, except that it was fun even without her chasing him.