Redhawk Caldera fits of fire and falling feathers

Little Lucy wiggled and squirmed between Elwood's forelegs, trying to get comfortable and reacting to the sensory stimuli he provided to her. He was delighted by the soft squeak she uttered, presumably in response to the touch of his nose. Rather than do it again, he gave her another gentle kiss, his gaze straying to watch as Finley gathered Tiarnach and Caoilfhionn in her arms.

"I guess so," he replied with a laugh, admiring the identical bundles of grey. "I don't know of any twins other than me and my sister, so we must've started the trend." His gaze strayed to the trademark streak of black down each pup's back, then he glanced down to snuffle Lucy's dark fur adoringly. Someone had gone a little heavy on the paint when attempting to give her the Blackthorn stripe and had unwittingly doused her in the color.

"What about the stripes? Do all Blackthorns have that?" he asked.