Redhawk Caldera sunshine on your toes

Peregrine trailed after Fox. As they made this funeral march, his eyes welled with tears which spilled silently down his dark cheeks. He didn't sniffle (much), nor make a sound otherwise. His grip on "Derp's" body remained soft but firm as he followed the Alpha female to a clearing. She began to dig almost immediately. He wanted to help, yet he froze. He just stood there, still holding their little boy, unable to put him down yet.

It didn't take long for the grieving mother to dig a grave large enough for the week-old puppy. Peregrine swallowed and finally lowered his head, placing "Derp" gently in the little hole. He did not immediately back away. His snout lingered just an inch or so from the limp body. He drew in his son's scent for the final time. Then he swiped his tongue over that pale brow—so much like his own mother's—one last time.

Then he stepped back, his heart heavy. He waited for Fox to say goodbye if she wanted. The two of them could cover him up together. In the meantime, Peregrine muttered under his breath, "Goodbye, little 'Derp.'" It wasn't much of a name but his lips twitched into a sad smile as his eyes continued streaming. His son hadn't lived long—not even long enough to get a proper name—but he wouldn't be forgotten.