Redhawk Caldera a knot in the wood; the song of a thrush

Brother. His shoulders settled, albeit infinitesimally. He smiled at her description of her father, which so reminded him of Fennec.

That's my Ma. She can be pretty prickly, but I'll always love her, Killer remarked. Her folks called this caldera home for a very long time. I suppose that's why I'm drawn here.

Among other things.

It just sucks, thinking about. . .like, maybe I could have seen my Dad more. Or Caracal. And now they're gone, and I'll never ever get to see them again—and maybe I should have made the effort when I had the chance, you know?

He paused, lips firming in a frown. But how could I have known? They were healthy—they were still young. . . Killdeer's voice trailed off into the chilly breeze, and he cast his gaze downward, wondering about the absolute waste of it all.