Redhawk Caldera No, I don't have a harp.

He'd given the den a wide berth up until now. It wasn't that he didn't want to meet Finley's cubs, but he knew full well the fury of a mother. He hadn't forgotten that his own mother hadn't permitted him anywhere near his newborn siblings, and they were blood relatives. For all her relevance to his family and the Caldera, Finley was no blood relative, and he reckoned she would be even less welcoming of him near her cubs. There was also the troubling matter of whether they were even worth his time or whether they were just new versions of Eljay. So he laid low, minding the borders and his own business.

He wound up in the vicinity of the den mostly by chance. While he knew exactly where it was, having visited Finley some weeks prior to her birth, he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going until he wound up in the clearing and spotted Towhee flopped on the ground nearby. The scent of newborns permeated the air even this far from the den and Nightjar felt his nose crinkle, followed by a sneeze and a snort. It wasn't a very pleasant smell. Piss and dung and something sweet. Not a smell that willed him to draw closer in spite of his interest.

His gaze dropped to his sister as he padded forward a few more steps into the clearing, then seated himself to silently wonder why she looked so glum. Then again, even he could sense a predator's fury in those bright eyes of hers.