Redhawk Caldera A greatness at the cost of goodness

"I know, I've hunted a few turkeys in my day. They're as mean as they are ugly," Peregrine replied. "Rabbit," he added. "Definitely not as interesting nor as challenging as this hideous motherfucker."

He kept his distance for the moment, watching the turkey, then glanced sideways at Fox. He managed a soft smile for her. Of course, he'd told her all about Blue Willow's emotionally-charged visit and how he (and everyone at the plateau, for that matter) held himself responsible for Junior's suicide attempt. She had been his light in the dark, to use a cheesy metaphor. And she, more than anyone else, was the central focus of his renewed dedication. She and their babies.

Blinking his dusky eyes, he snapped back into focus and leveled his gaze on the ugly bird again. He stalked forward in a rather leonine fashion, the tip of his tail switching back and forth. There was no cover, no element of surprise, as he approached the turkey. Accordingly, it thrust out its great fatty breast and rustled its tail fathers, trying to look large and intimidating. It scratched at the cold ground with its claws and clicked its beak, calling attention to its natural weapons.

"Can't daunt the dauntless," Peregrine muttered under his breath, crouching low as he prepared to pounce and glancing over his shoulder to wink at Fox, his not-actually-a-damsel-in-distress.