Blacktail Deer Plateau The devil's den

The girls were now a week old (Pied's pups trailing behind by just a few days) and already they were beginning to look less like shapeless blobs and more like miniature wolves. This morning, Peregrine sat and watched them a while. Tytonidae nursed and fell asleep but Osprey seemed restless. She worried her mother's teats until her mate could see the look of discomfort on her face. In an effort to help, Peregrine scooped the small pup toward himself and offered a toe, which she began to chew happily.

"I'm going to move over here just a few feet, so we can get some of the morning sun," Peregrine told his mate. He picked up Osprey Jr. in his mouth and then shuffled around to face the doorway. He scooted forward a few feet and then sprawled like a lion in the sunshine. Peregrine gently deposited his darker daughter between his outstretched forelegs, positioning her blunt muzzle near one of his dew claws so she could resume her chewing.

With the tiny pup gnawing away on his foot, Peregrine ran his tongue over her black, velveteen body, warmly but absently, as his dusky blue-green eyes roved over the forested area immediately outside the den.