Redhawk Caldera uncast shadow of a southern myth

Under normal circumstances, Peregrine would have ribbed Finley endlessly for showing up late, even green around the gills. And he probably would have shot his nephew a disapproving glance. But when they joined the gathered group, he only blinked at them, relieved, and let out a thin sigh. The weight of his words hung around his neck like a yoke. He hated the thought of moving, for both practical and sentimental reasons, and sincerely hoped it didn't come down to that. But he needed the Redhawks to understand they would not put a patch of ground above their members' lives.

The meeting drew to a close and Peregrine peered blandly at Fox as she addressed everyone a final time, requesting help with sitting the pups. He nodded as if to agree with her words, then slid closer to her. He looked at her bad eye again, then muttered, "I'm going to go hunt." He was well-rested, after all, despite that strange and barely remembered nightmare. And though it was a probably futile endeavor, he would never stop trying to provide for his family, not until he was six feet under.

"Elwood?" he called as he began to glide downhill, exchanging a glance with his Beta, inviting him along. Peregrine glanced at the other able bodies gathered but there was no large game to hunt, so why bother expending so much energy? No, he only wanted the other father (to be) with him for this particular go. Not waiting for an answer, he looked ahead and loped away.