Redhawk Caldera Two by two

Peregrine drowsed near the lair's entrance, his body partially blocking it in case of tiny wanderers. His eyes slowly opened when he heard a shuffling and bumbling nearby and he found himself practically nose-to-nose with his palest offspring. Keeping his movements slow and measured, he lifted his head from its resting place on his crossed forelegs and gazed down at the little tyke. Like Hamburglar, Mashed here wore black stockings. The black on white made Peregrine think of his parents, the pups' grandparents.

"Mo with a touch of Aer," he mused under his breath, then bent down to press his nose to the warm space between the pup's newly opened and slivered blue eyes.