Redhawk Caldera she sees them walking in a straight line, that's not really her style

She gazed at him stupidly, the words— logical as they were— going over her head. Had Magpie been in a better mental condition, she would have massively preferred this sort of feedback from Peregrine; and would certainly put it to good use. His refusal to be forthright with his complaints against her had been the crux of her issues with him— Magpie didn't hate criticism, if it was explained and made sense. She could do something with it, use it. It was too bad that she was currently too out of it to appreciate this side of the male. Instead of responding, the yearling lifted her good hind leg to take care of an itch near her ear, yelping pathetically as her blunt nails came too close to her swollen eye.

Peregrine was still talking, but she somehow knew it was no longer directed towards her— but she chimed in excitedly, "Fox— puppies!" Good. She hadn't missed that, at least... and the male wasn't attacking her, nor was he spewing his usual insults at her. Magpie gathered that much, and felt suddenly content and relaxed. She began to crumble to a laying position, but her leader was at her side, then, nudging her to her feet. "My den," she repeated, shying away from his assistance— she was independent, after all— though her left hind leg was still too sore to touch the ground. "Dove ate my flowers," Magpie almost whined, looking at the male with her good eye. It was likely the closest answer he'd get.