Redhawk Caldera Only blue or black days

Peregrine was angry. His vision still hadn't improved in his left eye. If he closed the right, he could barely register more than shadows and shapes. It left his entire left side feeling very vulnerable. He was developing a crick in his neck from suddenly turning his head toward the left hundreds of times a day. He was bitter about the circumstances and resentful of Ashton in particular for giving him false hope that he would make a full recovery. It had been a week and there was no change. It was pretty damn clear to Peregrine that his condition was permanent.

For the first time in days, he left the rendezvous site to take a walk. His depth perception was shot to hell and it was difficult to avoid missteps. For a while, it took all his concentration to adjust and he didn't even actively think about the ramifications of this. Then he actually found himself wondering how on earth he could survive with this handicap long term. His mouth went dry and he found himself fighting nausea when he realized his Gamkeeper career might be over, unless he could magically relearn everything and adapt.

Right as the Alpha was about to sink into a pit of misery, he suddenly noticed Njal sprawled on the ground nearby. He'd heard about the circumstances of his disappearance and eventual return. Normally, Peregrine might have held a grudge anyway, though right now he just felt himself commiserating. They were both busted and broken. But at least Njal had hope. His leg would mend. He would be able to resume hunting in just a few weeks. A little bit of resentment stirred deep within Peregrine.

But his greeting was not unfriendly. "Hello, fellow invalid," he said dryly when he came to stand over the pack's current gimp.