Redhawk Caldera There are foxes on my sockses

Something touched his flank, and then the sensation of his fine hairs being pulled made him buzz with upset. The precursor of a growl bubbled up in his throat but died almost instantly, just in time for Peregrine to transport him elsewhere. To Nightjar, these random trips were inexplicable and sometimes unnoticed. He was at the point in his young life where certain stimuli were becoming less intense; he could now be moved in his sleep without waking, so this was all normal to him.

Soon, the entity was squishing his left leg slightly, but before he could vocalize his distress, he was being soothed with a wide, wet tongue. Like most times before this, Nightjar was coaxed into relaxation by the rhythmic motion across his back. Only when Peregrine's snout dove between the two bodies, freeing his leg, did Nightjar's awareness truly filter back.

Wasting no time in mistaking what was happening, the boy opened his mouth wide and planted his gums against his father's whiskered snout, sucking hard and finding nothing.