Redhawk Caldera night and the spirit of life

The lie, despite its delivery, was completely palatable. Badgers were savage little beasts and could easily cause havok, especially for a youngster like Whip had been. He wished he could believe the story himself, but unfortunatley, the night he tore into his own flesh as an act of frustration was permanantly etched into his memory. At the time, he believed that night to have been one of triumph. He had garnered the attention of father as well as his mother's rage, but that was okay. It had been worth it. Now, with Peregrine nothing more than a memory, Whip felt he had done it for nothing.

When he looked down to his scarred limbs, he felt nothing but shame. "No. They're fine," he lied. "I'm fine." His ears fell weakly back against his head. He was a poor liar, but he wasn't quite ready to let his sister in. "I should— I should probably go," he muttered. With eyes downcast, Whip turned and left before he had to lie to his sister again.