Redhawk Caldera Tremble

There she was, in his path, and it took every ounce of his strength to pull away from her again. But he did, putting two feet of space between them and staring at her as she playfully chided him. It was tempting to accept her words at face value and embrace the feeling of relief that threatened to wash over him... but Peregrine hadn't hit his head that hard. Five minutes ago, Fox hadn't been sure she'd loved him.

"No," he replied slowly, woodenly. "I heard you perfectly well when you said you didn't know." Then, because he couldn't help himself, he asked, "What changed in the last five minutes, Fox?" Well, he'd taken a tree branch to the face and regained his sense of smell. But how had the former changed her mind? And she didn't know about the latter...

That realization gave him pause. She thought he still couldn't smell, yet she had swayed. What did that say about the situation? Peregrine didn't know. All he knew was... that he was in pain, suddenly so bad that he fell rather abruptly into a sit, bashed and bloodied muzzle pointing at the pink stain spreading on the snow between his forelegs.