Redhawk Caldera But in her eyes, we were saints

@Towhee, backdated to Nov. 19 prior to Peregrine's missing, and after this thread.

Hotah padded up to the Hobbit Hole with the lean cuts held neatly between his jaws, the lingering chill of morning still clinging to his fur. The fog had thinned but not lifted entirely, giving the caldera a muted, quiet calm that suited him just fine.

He reached the den mouth and set the meat down with practiced care before sticking his head inside. The pups’ warm scent hit him first, followed by Towhee’s familiar presence curled somewhere in the dim.

He cleared his throat softly, then tapped a paw against the packed earth.

Knock knock,he said, voice carrying a playful warmth he didn’t often use with anyone but her. And maybe Jr.

Hotah nudged the bundle of meat forward a little. Fresh delivery, he added. Picked out the good pieces for you.

A small grin tugged at the crease by his eye, pride slipping in despite himself.

And before you ask, he went on, leaning a bit closer so she could see his lips, Jr and I brought these in. Good hunt this morning.