Redhawk Caldera Play place

Peregrine didn't particularly notice Ferret's growl, Eljay's arrival or Peter's mimicry (the latter of which would have amused him greatly in other circumstances). He was too busy hopping around on three feet, his broken paw dangling in the air, still swearing a blue streak. "Son of a fucking bitch! You little shit! You broke my fuckin' leg! Fuck!" There went all of his hopes for the Father of the Year award...

Before long, the Alpha's cussing changed over to inarticulate gasps and hisses. His mind cleared enough to acknowledge his nephew, Ferret and Peter. "Eljay, don't," Peregrine gritted out when he realized Eljay was attempting to reprimand Ferret. A minute ago, Peregrine might have whacked the pup himself in his anger, yet he was already cooling enough to say, "He didn't do it on purpose. He doesn't even know what he did."

Rocking back onto his haunches, Peregrine examined his leg. There was no exposed bone or anything like that but it wasn't just a sprain; he couldn't even rotate it without severe agony. It was probably just a hairline fracture but it hurt like a bitch and it would keep him off his feet (one of them at least) for at least a few weeks. The father swore under his breath, wishing there was a medic in the pack who could bind the leg or, at the very least, give him some good painkillers.

"This is gonna make hunting a bitch," he mumbled dourly, giving Ferret a bit of a hairy eyeball. "Joke's on you. Now you're all gonna starve." Of course that wasn't true. There were other able-bodied hunters who could help provide for them. But Peregrine was feeling a little bitter, especially since he couldn't properly blame the whelp. He was only six weeks old, for crying out loud.