Redhawk Caldera There are a hundred boys and girls.

Of course, Dove probably didn't understand Peregrine's harshness whatsoever. He felt a twinge of guilt, though the mere thought of Robin, Magpie and the plethora of other wolves who'd more recently run off on them vaporized it. Sure, she probably didn't deserve the third degree but he wasn't going to sugarcoat his stance, not with the puppies in the mix soon.

"Several wolves—including a couple of your relatives—have left us," he told Dove, "and I'd be defensive about it anyway but now that I have the pups to think about, I'm going to be much worse. I get it that some will come and go. That's cool. It's just that I can't stand it when they just poof into thin air, leaving us all wondering. The puppies, they won't get it if and when that happens. They won't understand. It'll hurt them." His eyes grew flinty at the thought of anyone hurting his brood.

"Anyway," he said after a breath, "I'll hold you to your word, then. And I'm afraid there are not that many pretty boys around here, at least not available ones. I think our only standing bachelor is Theseus." Peregrine's tail switched. "Though you could always try recruiting some," he suggested.