Redhawk Caldera Katching katching katching kablow

Note on Jan. 27: I'm going to conclude and archive this.

Peregrine looked up after introductions had been made, his ears twitching when Amon's stomach growled. "Want me to grab you something more... substantial?" he said, glancing at the scraps. Without waiting for a reply, the Gamekeeper rose and trotted to a stockpile a short distance away, retrieved a sizable hunk of meat, then carried it back and dropped it gently at the old timer's feet.

"Meals on wheels," he quipped with a wink, settling onto his haunches next to Amon. It wasn't the first time he'd brought meat to the caldera's elder, nor would it probably be the last. He enjoyed it; feeding the young, old and sick was all part of his duties as a Gamekeeper. "Eat up, my man, and tell us what you've been up to." The Alpha glanced at Mikael to include him. "I haven't seen you around much. Is the winter treating you okay...?"

The old timer began to talk and Peregrine happily lent him an ear. He engaged his pack mate—both of them—in conversation for a good while, though eventually his other duties called and the Alpha male bade his farewells and left his two subordinates to it... unaware that it was the last time he would see Amon alive.