Emberwood hellbender

With the first signs of fall, Phox found himself thinking of his own life and how it was in its autumnal phase. He had plenty of kids out there, he'd been through some shit, and he typically thought of himself as at least a little bit wise in the ways of the world. Maybe not "smart," but at least he could offer advice now and again... not that anybody ever took it for anything. None of his own children had, as far as he could remember. They'd always been their own personalities with their own plans, ambitions, and now families. It was hard to believe that even Fig had kids out there now. Fennec had Killdeer, too. Caracal had a whole mountain of kids, according to Towhee... and he was sure there were plenty of others with children of their own.

What—he wondered—would his life throw at him next? He didn't have to wait long for an answer.

A woof stopped him in his tracks, and Phox jostled himself around to face the "offender." They were young with a rather peculiar red face marking. The Redhawks were known for their own odd markings, but this one really took the cake, and Phox stood staring dumbly for a little bit too long before he realized he was likely being a little bit rude. He waved his tail, then step-step-hopped a few paces toward the stranger. Howdy stranger, he greeted simply.