Redhawk Caldera Run for your money

When his daughter's voice came ringing through the air, Phox only registered it subconsciously. His head was still in the hunt, and when he finally got close enough to the muskrat, he pounced, giving the little creature a quick, clean death. This was a chonker of a muskrat, too. Its sharp claws hung limply and swung from side to side as Phox carried it to its (almost) final resting place. From there, they could dig it up later for not-so-fresh eats.

Satisfied with his work, he suddenly remembered the call, and his large, lean form went barreling toward the northern border. He wasn't sure exactly how long she'd been waiting when he got there, but Phox approached in his usual jovial manner. His tail wagged, his tongue hung loose out of the side of his mouth, and his chestnut brown eyes greeted his daughter with cheer.

-Meerk!- he chirped/signed. -I guess you heard Towma's yowling?-