Redhawk Caldera The crisis in the crossfire

While he hadn't intended to catch any attention while hunting, it did still warm his heart to catch sight of his son approaching when he caught the boy's scent on the air. He still couldn't get over how much the boy had grown- and how much he resembled Towhee, at least in terms of his fur colour. Perhaps it was a pattern just waiting to skip a generation. 

He nodded as he greeted the youngster, and while Bronco had spent the majority of his youth playing with and raising younger siblings...This was different. This kid was his. It made him feel a little bit more pressure, but fortunately, he'd at least had enough experience raising kids before that this wasn't something completely out of the blue for him. The stakes were slightly higher now that he was a Dad- but he found himself also so much more proud of his son because of it. 

"Hey, varmint," He said, his nose wrinkling sympathetically with Killdeer's comment. -"We're hunting muskrat,"- He said. He may as well continue the process of teaching Killdeer Ptero, so it might live on for yet another generation. -"But not looking like that. Come here a sec,"- He said, turning so he could reach the boy's temple. And with a brisk flick of his tongue from the back of Killdeer's head and over his brow, he messed up the fur so that it stood up, spiky. He then bowed his own head. -"Now you do mine. It's important to look the part when you're hunting muskrat."- He fibbed, with as much conviction as he could muster.