Redhawk Caldera The crisis in the crossfire

The glint of Killdeer's pearly canines made something in the back of Bronco's mind seethe and cringe. But the droll, upwards tug of his son's lips convinced the rational part of his mind that Killdeer was just having fun. Mirroring him, even. The shock of that knee-jerk reaction didn't prey upon his own features, but he did reflect for a moment and wonder if he was training his son to be hostile. Maybe he should concentrate on teaching him to be cautious, not overconfident. He could do that. 

His son looked up to him; it still felt so strange to have Killdeer be a living, breathing, thinking and talking creature when he'd been an infant the last time he'd seen him. So much had changed- and he'd missed the boy's earliest development. He was struggling to keep up now, but trying to do his best. 

"Well, we're gonna go along the edge of the lake, and try to look for fresh tracks or fresh scent. If we can find where they live, we'll have a better chance of catching one." He said. "But we're gonna have to try to catch one on, or close to land. They're better swimmers than we are...But I think I might have an idea, if we see one." He said. He gave his son a sideling glance. "Have you learned how to swim yet?" He asked.