Redhawk Caldera your own story is the safest place you'll ever be.

Even if he hadn't smelled Liffey's blood from a distance, Elwood still would have known something was wrong. Father's intuition, and all. But the metallic scent was unmistakable and caused his heartbeat to accelerate as he closed the gap between himself and his daughter, pushing Finley's voice out of the back of his mind. She would have begun scolding Liffey immediately; after all, she was the one that had been pushing the envelope lately. She was asking for trouble. But she was still Elwood's little girl, and first and foremost, he was concerned for her safety.

She was crouching close to the ground, her gait uneven, and Elwood's gaze immediately settled on the wounds marring her pelt. The sight caused his heart to twist as though he could physically feel her pain. "Liffey..." he said, pausing a few feet from her; he didn't want to crowd her, didn't want to scare her away. She had been so flighty lately. "What happened?" he asked quietly, ears tilted back.