Redhawk Caldera literally

Although he wasn't one to babble at his deaf children, he certainly didn't hold it against Grimm when she began to talk to Wildfire. His lips twitched into a smile as he watched the two interact—although "interact" might be a misnomer, as Wildfire seemed to have cried herself out and was now asleep. He motioned for Grimm not to touch her, though of course she could yammer away all she wanted. It wouldn't disturb the tone deaf meatball.

"They definitely shit a lot," he confirmed, then added, "The eldest—and smallest—he has cream fur. Then there's Nightjar, who looks like a perfect blend of mine and Fox's colors. Wildfire was baby numero three, which leaves us with our youngest, a girl who takes after me." His tail thumped proudly. A litter of four was no small success. No stillborns either!

"How're things?" he queried after a beat. "I haven't seen you since... well, that crazy therapy session." His head canted as he recalled her awkward behavior that day. He didn't comment on it. It was all water under the bridge to Peregrine, who only cared about two things these days: his mate and their offspring.