Redhawk Caldera we all sell our souls (sooner than later).

Meerkat had a sour look on her face. Maybe Reyes only imagined it. She didn't seem pleased at all to see him there, but what did he care? She wasn't his family; Towhee was, and those kids he'd left behind in the caldera certainly were. He opened his mouth to say something else when a stranger approached from the other side.

They were burly, pale, and clearly uncertain of both visitors. Reyes didn't recognize them, but he wouldn't have. He had never been very close to anyone in the pack outside of the family he'd built; the way the stranger levied the same question to them both was telling, as well. Meerkat must have taken her sweet time in returning home, so their little encounter in the woods hadn't been relayed to anyone yet.

Reyes opened his mouth again to speak and froze, because his daughter's triumphant shouting was growing louder and louder, to the point that she emerged as a flash of red beyond the white guardian. Reyes was so glad to see her —!

That was when Meerkat moved closer to him. She served to partially block his view of his daughter and stood there are Tierra came in for a hug, preventing her from making that last bit of distance.

The hell are you doing? Reyes shot at Meerkat. He began to bristle, knowing how haphazard he would look if the wrong person came striding over at the wrong time. He side-stepped around Meerkat and looked down to where Tierra waited, smiling at her.

Daddy's home, sweetheart. Over the top of Tierra's head he glared at Meerkat a moment, and with the same frustration edging his tone, spoke to the guardian: I'm Towhee's mate, and the father of her kids. I'm here to talk to her. To make amends. Or, more than likely, just for a visit — but Reyes wouldn't dash his daughter's hopes like that.