Redhawk Caldera a feather for your hare

While their father lay in the den's entrance with his chin beside his crossed forelegs, the pups played nearby. All three were awake and rather lively today. It seemed they spent more time up and at 'em with each passing day. Soon, their eyes and then their ears would open and they would find their sea legs. Even while still relatively senseless, they sure know how to keep themselves occupied.

Wildfire was being loudest and most rambunctious, of course. Today, she was practicing the art of barking. It sounded like a gravelly squeak, not that she could hear it for herself. It just felt satisfying, somehow, to expel the air from her lungs. She did it continuously, up until the Alpha male sat up and placed a broad black paw on top of her head, gently and playfully squashing her to the floor.

The pup wriggled and writhed, grasping her father's paw with her own tiny ones and biting him as well. As she squirmed, she grunted and tried futilely to heave the weight off her small body. She continued struggling until she became exhausted. Right around the time she flopped in defeat, a strange smell wafted into her tiny button of a nose and she fell still beneath Peregrine's foot, sniffing the air.

"Trade ya," her father rumbled above her, lifting his paw as he attempted to barter his loudmouth child for Jaws's rabbit and feather combination.