Redhawk Caldera Circle of life

Some mornings, Wildfire was up and at 'em. Others, she was slow to rise. Today was one of those days. It took quite a bit of coaxing to get her out of bed, though she became alert at once when the smell of meat wafted into her nose. The cub missed nursing—the comfort of it as much as the sweet, rich taste of her mother's milk—but nothing tasted as wonderful as meat! Wildfire fell upon it with vigor, her sharp little teeth tearing off chunks which she carried to a spot a few feet away to enjoy before returning to the main dish time and time again.

There was an excitement in the air as breakfast drew to a close. The Alphas stepped away from the stripped leg bone and the three puppies were quick to trundle along behind them, Wildfire bringing up the rear as she tried not to stumble over her own big feet. Not often did they venture away as a group like this, though she didn't question it one bit, nor understand what was actually happening. If she had, she might have given the whelping den a last glance. But she didn't; she only faced forward.

By the time Peregrine drew to a stop a good thirty minutes later, Wildfire's tongue was lolling from her muzzle and her legs were trembling slightly with exertion. Her bright eyes roamed over the view below them, then she glanced up first at her father, then her mother. Her gaze then returned to the scenery in front of her and the little dhole lookalike began cantering down the hill, tripping several times but managing to keep her feet.

She expected one of her parents to beckon her back, yet when she reached the foot of the small slope and turned, they were merely watching her. Wildfire's eyes shifted to Peregrine and she guessed, "Voo site? 'Ome naow?" He had been talking about this for days and had even taken her out on a view jaunts to explore the possibilities. She didn't remember seeing this place, though her thin black tail lifted and wagged as if in approval.