Their names didn't ring a bell - or maybe they did, he wasn't entirely sure. It was easy to forget things these days, especially when Amon had segregated himself. He tried to think back to the pumpkin party and summon up images of faces, but the effort was futile; he just couldn't think that far back. Heck, that had only been about a month ago! 'You're getting old, Amon.' He thought idly, before shaking his head and shoulders in an effort to release some tension.
Well that's good. Plenty of you young folk to care for whatever spawns out of Peregrine and Fox's union.
He tried to smile at this, but he was still distracted - so the expression looked a bit strained.
There wasn't much else he wanted to say, so Amon returned to wandering. He began to hike along the decline which led to the caldera's central plateau. His mind was elsewhere now, though, as he was thinking about his own coughing fit and the deterioration of his memory. He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't pay enough attention to the steep route he sought - thus Amon was suddenly stumbling, tripping over his feet, and crashing in to the underbrush about a foot further down the cliffside.
When he came to his senses, he was belly-up and caught against some tree roots, his front claws having scored grooves against the base of a nearby tree as he had instinctively grappled for safety. Oi! I should watch where I'm goin'. Damn tree nearly took my head off.