Redhawk Caldera We used to sit up at the flats

Hotah lowered his head a little, setting the two stag hoofs down in the snow with a soft thud. His almond eyes warmed as he looked at the boy, unbothered by the sharpness in Lyric’s voice. Pups were meant to guard their dens, and he respected it.
I don’t want to wake her, he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his muzzle. I came to see you, Lyric. Thought you might like these to play with. His nose flicked toward the hoofs, their polished edges catching the light. They’re good for games, or for chewing—whatever you decide.
Hotah eased back a step, making sure the boy saw there was no threat. I've been out in the plains hunting. Haven't had a chance to say hello, He gave a nod, steady and respectful. So this is just a hello—from me to you.