Redhawk Caldera The kids aren't alright

FINE.

If Peregrine had said he didn't want any more kids, Fox probably would have dropped him on the spot. However, if he had said that some of his kids were "bad seeds," she would have rolled her eyes, chalked it up to luck of the draw, and enticed him into some baby-making practice (which, admittedly, they hadn't been doing much of lately). She had stuck by his side through thick and thin—never mind the times she'd almost dropped him for being an ass and/or getting old—and he had done the same. So long as he was still a contributing member of the pack and could give her children, she was happy to be with him. They'd been through two years together, maybe more, and she wasn't about to lose that.

The incident a week ago had rattled her, to say the least, but perhaps it had rattled her out of the funk she'd been in for... well, a long time. The air was growing cooler, the leaves were beginning to drop from the trees, and autumn would be in full swing soon enough. Fox took in a deep breath, and a hint of Peregrine's scent came with it. The corners of her mouth turned upward in a smile, and she trotted toward him.

"Hey..." she said, trailing off a bit. "How're you feeling?" He couldn't be "great," but hopefully he was feeling at least a little bit better.