Redhawk Caldera some day they will all be dead

she peeled back her lips in a growl, despite herself. vesper was so sick of that look that appeared on everyone's face when they cast their eyes in her direction. pity. worry. like she was some fragile thing that needed to be taken care of, even though she felt as if she had been taking care of herself— and boo— for some time now. luckily, caracal appeared to be distracted, and before the sound could erupt into something more aggressive, he answered her question. an apprentice medic, then.

vesper clenched and unclenched her jaw, considering his offer. her gut reaction was to refuse the same way she refused everything and everyone else— until she realized what a benefit it could be to have her own personal medic after scrapes like the one with the wolverine. she released her jaw and sighed before fixing him with a stern stare, her orange eyes locked on his loam-colored gaze in a display of dominance, you can't tell anyone.

the last thing she wanted was for father, mother, or phox to find out about these adventures of hers. she would make him swear this all to secrecy before she would allow it, and vesper would hold him to that vow by whatever means she needed to. if he could keep this secret from the adults, and help her heal from the limiting pains (just not all of it)... well it would be win-win, wouldn't it, and mostly in her favor?

i mean it, vesper emphasized, her tone the commanding one she used when peregrine and prevost used to get too rough with blueberry. you must swear.

only then would she take his advice.