Redhawk Caldera days gone by

Takes place in the den, but visitors are welcome.

Slowly, but surely, the four three little things that Fox and Peregrine had created began to look a little more like what they would grow into. The little tan one, of course, would never grow into his true self. He would always been a week-old baby, forever trapped in his tiny, lifeless body. Fox shook the thought away, reminding herself that there was no real way to tell how he had perished. It was better to assume that he had simply slipped away. He'd always been the smallest of their litter, and she'd even expressed concern about as much to Peregrine.

The loss, however tragic, had brought Fox closer to her remaining three children. The disdain she had for them grew smaller each day, and she felt she had finally gotten into the routine of things. Just now, the three of them were deep in their dreams, one tucked under her hind leg, and the other two whimpering softly in their sleep. As much as it guilted her to admit it, taking care of three was easier than four.