Redhawk Caldera it's a hard whump life for us

If you had asked Fox what her last encounter with Magpie had been like, she would have stared blankly for a few seconds, shrugged, and said it was fine. The truth was, she had already forgotten all about it. It hadn't been a particularly momentous conversation on her side, and if she'd known that Magpie was going to get herself knocked up so soon after, maybe she would have beat it into her half-sister's head that doing so was a terrible idea without a stable support system to help out. Or at least she would have tried a little bit harder.

The Redhawk alpha wasn't far off when Peregrine called, having been watching the kids do kid things. Since his call had a sense of urgency, she let her legs take her as fast as they would go. When she arrived, her heart was pounding in her chest, her tongue dangling out her mouth, and her eyes (one good, one cloudy) bright from the run. The smell of blood was thick on the air, but it was no blood of prey.

Her eyes moved first to Peregrine, but she let her gaze linger there only for a moment before focusing on Magpie. Her half-sister looked a right mess, and it was obvious what had happened. She'd given birth right on their borders. Instinct took over, and Fox made no move to comfort her sister or explain herself. She walked up to the three lifeless bodies, sniffed, and crunched the first one between her jaws. This was the cruel way of nature. This was why bastards were not meant to be.