Redhawk Caldera All my friends are heathens, take it slow

He was taken back at the sight of a small, peculiar looking boy ran at him with his head forward, Stoic bracing himself for impact. His eyes winced, prepared, but when he opened them, Perry stood in the boy's way. Stoic glared at the boy named Ferret, from between Perry's legs. But his dislike of the boy was in an instant, pushed to the back of his mind as he hesitated fully expecting Peregrine to speak his discarded name. But he didn't. His facial expression turned to one of surprise, yet recovered, not wanting to arise further suspicion of his name. He looked to the male, a silent thank you in his eyes. Maybe Peregrine would be the best thing that ever happened to him.

Once again, he was assaulted by this Ferret, the boy sticking his nose in Stoic's shoulder like he was a hands-on display. No. He growled at the boy, scooting away from him with much dislike. Who did he think he was? One could not just violate someone's shoulder like that. "Stop it," He spoke up, making eyes contact with the boy; forgetting his timidness to interact. They would need to set some boundaries if they were going to coexist. Or they were going to have some problems. 

But his scope out of Peregrine's sons was halted as a much smaller but friendly looking woman came close behind. His head tilted, was this the Mother? She did not look like the weird one who stuffed his nose in Stoic's face. His head snapped to Peregrine as she asked her own question. He wasn't sure how to answer. Could he call himself a Silvertip? No, but if he was not a Silvertip and he was not a loner.. who was he?