Redhawk Caldera Yeah, I reckon we were heathens

Jr slipped in beside him, taking to the hide with a steady, purposeful rhythm. He caught the way she watched his work, the brief flicker of focus in her eyes, and it pulled a quiet, almost shy curve to the corner of his mouth before he returned to the task.

As they began separating the meat, he nosed one of the cleaner, leaner cuts aside. Then another. And another—building a small, tidy pile.

He paused long enough to sign:

-These are for Towhee.-

A brief glance toward the den entrance followed, warm and earnest.

-She needs the best pieces.-

Then, with a small nod toward the other cuts:

-We share rest.-

He went back to work without fuss, but the meaning hung in the air—providing for Towhee and the pups wasn’t obligation for him.