Redhawk Caldera and you will do a shit on their graves

of course it was phox, of all wolves, that found her like this. if it had been father, her anger might have melted away in an instant and she would have collapsed against him, burying her face into his fur like she had when she was younger and life was simpler. but it was the Not-father instead, and vesper felt a deep pain in her chest that she didn't know how to vocalize in words. a cross between a snarl and whine escaped from deep in her chest instead as she felt heat in the corners of her eyes.

he probably expected her to run, and she did, too. it was how vesper had handled most of their interactions thus far. but she saw the unmistakable invitation and she paused, trying desperately to make sense of her emotions. gratitude that for once, an adult in her life was anticipating her needs and was offering support— not trying to talk her out of it, not silently demanding that she stifle her emotion in favor of theirs. more anger that it was phox, not mother or father.

angry that perhaps peregrine had the right of it all along.

this all roiled within her for less than a millisecond before vesper inhaled deep, emptied her mind, and charged the father she was a mirror of. a sound of rage escaped her as she darted forward, and as she closed the distance, vesper lunged at phox's shoulder with teeth flashing.