Redhawk Caldera Because I'm tacky

Dawn brought with it a piercing shaft of light in the den that, somehow, Nightjar ended up in. Oh, he was fast asleep, but somewhere in his thrashing and dreaming he parted from his mother's side and ended up here, rather near the den entrance and in a warm patch. He slept deeply, at least until it became uncomfortably hot on his back.

Having mastered many motions by now, including unsteadily standing and toddling a few feet at a time, Nightjar had no trouble rolling over and arching his back as he stretched. His tongue folded toward his nose as it peeked out of a wide yawn, and then his eyes popped open and he was squinting up at the den ceiling.

You'd think this would alarm Nightjar, but in reality, he hardly even noticed and certainly didn't care. It was almost like he was always able to see and this was nothing new. Moving instinctively, the boy began flailing to stand in an effort to get back to Fox (in his slow and laborious way) for breakfast, unwittingly staring unblinkingly at her with his huge, steely grey-blue eyes.