Redhawk Caldera The best ever death metal band out of Denton

Pushing further into his father's embrace, Whip continued to break down. Muffled sobs sounded though his father's fur as struggled, and failed, to regain his usual icy composure. The boy felt as if he had melted: emotionally, and physically -- for as his sorrow crashed over him, Whip had difficulty standing. His feet shuffled as he fought to stay upright. Whip soon faltered, knees buckling, but he leaned against his father for support. Peregrine did not say a word, nor did he need to. His support was evident enough in his actions. 

When it came to his mother and her offering, perhaps Whip would have been more surprised if he were in a better, less manic state of mind. This, was exactly the attention he sought. Unable to regain his wits, all Whip could do was nod weakly into his father's scruff. 

Yes.