Kintla Flatlands Open letter to hummingbirds

"I'm positive they don't want anything to do with me. I'm hoping that time will heal the wounds I inflicted on them. I'm going to give them that," Peregrine said, unaware of how right and wrong he was at the same time. "They're better off without me," he added, mumbling under his breath. This was their home and they were among wolves who loved them and could dedicate more time and attention to them. He need not interfere with that. Louder, he concluded, "Honestly, they are the plateau's children more than they are mine or Hawkeye's."

He heaved a quiet sigh and, after a time, pushed himself upright. He regarded Lasher now with fondness, yet Peregrine resisted the urge to touch him. "I should be getting back. I know I don't need to tell you to take care of Willow, the kids, everyone. Oh, and Finley's dumb ass..." He paused. "I love all of you, even if I suck at showing it sometimes. Be well."

Giving Lasher a small smile, Peregrine's dusky eyes lifted to regard the plateau. He then swung around and turned, refusing to look backward as he trotted back toward Redhawk Caldera.