Redhawk Caldera we sleep until the sun goes down.

Peregrine's fever finally broke and, though he barely remembered his fever dreams, he surfaced from his ailment with the distinct feeling he had somehow seen and spoken with Peter somewhere in there. And though it didn't make much sense, it left him feeling strangely calm, like a mellow, orange sunset after a terrible storm. His heart still ached for his youngest, yet it didn't weigh on him as heavily as before, and he felt a renewed sense of duty to his remaining sons. The famine was breaking, so there was still a chance they would not only survive but live, thriving where Peter had not.

And apparently there was even more hope in the form of new life. The Alpha hadn't yet swung by the Beta pair's den, not wanting to expose the squiggling newborns to his feverish illness. But now that he was feeling better—and now that small game was cropping up enough that he managed to break the neck of a skinny rabbit—Peregrine crept up to the Blackthorns' homestead to greet the caldera's newest members for the first time. The carcass swung from his jaws as he approached, then paused, an ear bending as he listened to the unmistakable sounds of wolf pups squirming and whimpering within—and a tiny squall which distinctly reminded him of Wildfire.