Redhawk Caldera Birds of a feather flock together

"Well, in that case you deserve a medal for a job well done," Osprey said him with a teasing glint dancing in her eyes. "But you will have to work extra hard to match our parent's record - I don't even know, how many of us they had in the end," at this moment she wondered, if her mom herself knew the exact count of her kids, let alone all of them by name. She wouldn't be too surprised, if she did not, but then again with her encyclopedic knowledge about birds... who knew... maybe she had the Big Book of Redleaf-DiSarinno brood tucked somewhere in her mind.

"But yeah... just think, how things change. One moment you are like this," she pointed out to the Wildfire, who was still crying, "tiny and toothless, weeks later you make your first steps out of the den, go through the moody and emotional teenage years and suddenly you are all grown up and have first grey hair around your muzzle and head," and after she had said that, she realized, how funny it applied to her. There was a slight chance of her either growing old differently (turning white, for example) or not having any visible signs of age at all. A beauty forever. Both ideas were tempting.