Redhawk Caldera Scars to your beautiful

Off she went with nary another word. Peregrine watched her until she disappeared, then stood there a few beats longer, wondering if she would come back. Eventually, he decided it was pretty damn unlikely. Nonetheless, he remained close to the borders, trotting perhaps a dozen yards into the territory and then sprawling in the grass. He would give her two hours. If she didn't show by then, he would write her off and resume his patrol.

He didn't mean to fall asleep. But by the time the she-wolf returned with her kill in tow, Peregrine was not only out cold, he had rolled onto his back. He was snoring, his tongue dangling from his mouth, and his legs were spread wide to display the family jewels. One of his forelegs was crooked over his chest, which he scratched idly in his sleep even as a long, low fart whined from his rear end.