Redhawk Caldera A greatness at the cost of goodness

His mate seemed to like the term of endearment and so it was official: he would think of them as their firebirds and refer to them as such when he spoke of them. Peregrine's tail waved as he wondered, for the billionth time, when he and his mate could hatch their little winged foxes. He couldn't wait. Although he knew it was pretty much impossible, he secretly hoped she was already pregnant from one of their many couplings and that one day she would just get fat and pop out a few adorable babies shortly thereafter.

Sighing happily, he said, "Speaking of earning things, I'd say we've earned the right to feed our faces on that walking bitch wrinkle," and motioned at the turkey. It was still twitching faintly, though he assumed it was dead by now. After giving his mate a nudge, he walked over to it and clipped one of its wingtips in his teeth, giving it a tug to be sure. The turkey flopped feebly.

"The head's all yours if you want it. I don't really have a taste for mangina. I'm a breast man," the Alpha male said, striking out a paw to pin the large bird to the ground even as he tore into the already-bleeding chest and ripped off a hunk of meat.