Redhawk Caldera a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor

Before Ferret could so much as react to his father's question, Fox appeared with three terrible words on her lips: "Peter is dead." Peregrine turned toward her, scrutinizing her face, wondering if this was some sick attempt at a joke. But, of course, she wouldn't joke about something like this. He saw the very real and heart-wrenching pain in that dull gray eye and he reflected it back with his own half-blind gaze as the news sunk in like a blow to the stomach.

For a long stretch of moments, he couldn't find his voice to speak. When he did, his voice was pitched low, sounding sort of strangled. "What? How? What happened?" His own ailments of the past few days faded into the background, probably never to be mentioned or even considered again as Peregrine's focus narrowed down to a single (smol) point: Peter Pan.