Redhawk Caldera sunshine on your toes

Perhaps if she had loved them, like she was supposed to, it would not have come to this. Perhaps she would have felt more even now. All-in-all, Fox felt numb. There was a sense of guilt and horror about what she'd presumably done. There was the fear of what Peregrine was thinking about her (despite what he'd said). There was the fear of doing it again, with one of the other children. But there wasn't a deep sense of loss that she'd expected to be there.

Soiled paws pushed away the final loam, and Peregrine gently placed the first born firebird into his final resting place. While Fox generally didn't bury the dead, she had felt compelled to bury this one. Maybe because she feared his body would be ravaged by predators. Or that his body would attract more predators to the remaining cubs. Peregrine mumbled something beneath his breath after giving the child a final kiss on the brow.

Gingerly, Fox stepped forward and nudged the boy with her nose. In some way, she half-expected him to squirm at her touch, warmth returning to him. That did not happen, of course, and she sighed, looking to Peregrine. She would wait for him to begin covering their lost child.