Redhawk Caldera DNA Mad Scientist

Luck shined on him today.  He was trotting back over the territory line, a hare dangling from his maw.  He was intending to put it in the cache for later, just in case.  The spring population boom wasn't going to happen for a few more weeks at the earliest, so he wanted to make sure there'd be plenty of food stored away until then.  Besides, when was Finley supposed to pop?  Soon?  Can't have a mother being hungry or he might be on the menu.

He still hadn't been too successful with his recruiting -- or at least, he didn't have a whole horde of new women now in the ranks.  As the days went by, it seemed less and less likely for him to be able to use the season itself to score himself a girlfriend.  Not that it was likely to be too important this year anyway -- it'd be a hell of a whirlwind romance if he somehow ended up with pups.  Or an accident.  But Quixote was way too paranoid about being chewed out by leadership to think that'd happen.

But now he had a chance, didn't he?  The war was over.  Hopefully they'd not have to do it again (he at least didn't know the Blackfeathers had returned to their home, as he'd stayed keenly away from it).  What was a year?  He had a lot more ahead of him, didn't he?  The thought had put a bit of a spring in his step as he pranced back into Redhawk territory and started up the slopes, the hare bouncing along with each step.