Redhawk Caldera Houston, we have a problem

It took Peregrine longer than he would like to admit to figure out how to carry today's catch—two dead mallards—simultaneously. Eventually, he managed to stuff both their heads into his mouth. Ignoring the feeling of their flat bills poking the sides of his teeth, the Alpha male loped away from Lake Rodney's shore and back toward the caldera. His mate and pups would certainly enjoy the plump, fatty duck meat.

As he came closer to the foot of the misshapen mount, the Alpha saw figures near his borders and hastened his step. He almost immediately recognized Elwood. It was his daughter's presence so far from home—and so near a shabby looking stranger—that caused Peregrine to break into a gallop. He reached the trio quickly and spat out the feathered carcasses quite unceremoniously as he pressed close to his Beta.

"What's going on here?" he asked after glancing down at his child's tear-streaked face. "Who the fuck are you?" he barked, assuming the worst as he suddenly moved toward the homely stranger.