Redhawk Caldera if i die young

Peregrine glanced behind them to see that the jay was flitting along in their wake. "'Lo there, Dick!" he called, chuffing quietly before facing forward again. Her quirked a brow, wondering why the bird had felt the need to pluck his canine companion. Perhaps it was nesting season and little Dick had a little family to look after. The thought of a brood of predatory chickens made the swarthy wolf tilt his head curiously.

"Maybe you were shedding and he was just trying to help," he joked when something unexpectedly fell on the bridge of his muzzle. The Alpha's eyes crossed, then he tipped his snout skyward. He had been so caught up in his head that he hadn't noticed that the weather matched his dreary spirits. It was starting to rain, which made up his mind. He would not be hunting during a rainstorm and nothing was more tempting during bad weather than a den full of warm puppies.

But he didn't want to strand Jaws, just like that. "Under here," he said, trotting toward a small thicket. He crammed himself in among the shrubs and brambles, then made space for the other wolf. "Man, it's coming down," he observed even as the moderate sprinkle turned into a downright deluge. "I hope Dick doesn't get washed away."