Redhawk Caldera Hands off, no trash talk, no back walk

Completely unaware of his father's (horrible terrible awful) naming of them, newly dubbed 'Mashed' (or was it potato? Edit: yes it's Potato) continued to wiggle aimlessly.  He couldn't move himself, but his little paws continued to churn.  He'd completely forgotten why he had started the fun but now kept it up because the sensation of moving was so novel.  Look what he could do!  He told his legs to go and they did!

Presently he stopped, and another touch came after he paused.  He instinctively reached towards it with a blind muzzle, nose wrinkling when he met only air.