Redhawk Caldera In Germany Before the War

Whip stopped a few paces away to look upon Towhee absently. News of his littermate, Gannet, gave him pause. Having left in the winter during Gannet's first sleepaway adventure from the Caldera, Whip wrongly assumed his brother to be among the nameless dead. Culled by the unforgiving frost. It pleased him to know that Gannet survived. Albeit as an injured prisoner held against his will. And yet, Whip was oddly unconcerned with his brother's injuries. If Gannet was strong enough -- he would return to the Caldera just as Whip had returned from the Nereides.  

However, the memories Whip could recall of his wayward brother did not conjure images of strength or triumph. He was too kind. Too soft and prone to attachment. These trappings would weigh him down, but Whip could sense no such weights on Towhee. She would be stronger for it, he supposed. If she didn't know what to think or feel, Whip would tell her what she needed to be. "Be angry," he told her. "Embrace it." She thought like him, after all. It wouldn't be a hard stretch. "Make it your center. Your strength."

"You've killed before, haven't you?" he asked. It wasn't something one came to lightly.