Redhawk Caldera Bones in the soil, rust in the oil

While Whip's actions clearly told him he was going nowhere, he was far too stubborn to stop his fruitless attempt at ascension. His movement, however, came to an unceremonious halt with the change in incline of his father's head. Gravity did the rest, pulling him to the ground. Spilling out onto the den floor, Whip rolled with the gracefulness of a frightened pill-bug— eventually settling on his back with limbs splayed upward.

"Ack!" The pup jabbered in displeasure, legs kicking upward and body writhing uncomfortably. Thankfully, Peregrine soon settled in beside him. Whip rolled to his side and poked at his father with outstetched forepaws as he spoke. Had he understood to words his father spoke or could he reply with some level of intelligance, Whip would have more than likely responded to the suggestion of Nighthawk Redhawk with a firm; fuck yeah. Seriously though— so badass.