Redhawk Caldera out of feathers out of bones.

Although Finley leaned into Elwood's embrace, the silence between them was heavy; weighted with thoughts and feelings that neither one of them truly wanted to bring to light. They both knew how dire the situation was; it was getting better day by day, but would that be enough? The locusts and the famine had already wreaked their havoc, and the destruction was plain to see in Finley's figure. Her rounded stomach didn't seem natural in contrast to the sharpness of her flanks.

Elwood continued to nibble at his wife's scruff, his teeth grazing down to her shoulder as he tried to lose himself in the simplicity of the moment. He was almost successful, but Finley's voice brought him bobbing back to the surface. Her words left him gasping for breath, like he was treading water out at sea with no land for miles -- nothing solid upon which to place his paws.

He hesitated, but knew there was no other response he could give. "Yes," he said, his voice sounding immeasurably calmer than he felt.