Redhawk Caldera literally

Grimm had yet to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals. The inner circle of approved visitors included both Elwood and Finley, and there was rarely an opportunity to ask either parent for a sneak peek. But nearly a week had passed since the birth, and Grimm presumed herself to be the only member of the pack not to have offered a gift or extended an official welcome. She lingered near the den that morning, watching and listening for signs that the family was awake, resting both front paws on a freshly caught rabbit.

Anyone that might be near the den.

Grimm's visit happened to coincide with a particularly loud screaming fit from their resident loudmouth fussbudget. Peregrine took one glance at his careworn mate's face and then clasped his jaws around the infant's midriff, lifting her. He swung around toward the den's mouth and plopped down just inside the entrance, cradling Wildfire in between his crooked forelegs. She had been fed and bathed, so Peregrine didn't know the current source of aggravation for the fiery little pup. He supposed there was none; she was just massively colicky.

But that wouldn't stop him from trying to get her to quiet down. He was so caught up in trying to console Wildfire that it took him several moments to notice Grimm. Peregrine only looked up when a breath of cold wind blew the scent of fresh rabbit into his nose. The Alpha looked up sharply to spot the subordinate standing there. His black ears fanned backward for a moment and he shot her a grumpily possessive look, then he blinked down at Wildfire, who was still screaming and writhing now as well.

"You want her?" Peregrine asked in a dryly humorous tone. Jokingly, he uncrossed his forelegs and used a broad paw to nudge Wildfire toward the door.

An ear-splitting crescendo of squeals rose from the den. Grimm straightened up, staring at the shrouded entrance. Before long, a tired-looking Peregrine half-emerged into the light, dropping a writhing, squealing parcel of bright fur on the ground - presumably in an attempt to give the rest of the family some peace and quiet. Unless he planned to take her to the other side of the map, that seemed unlikely.

Grimm was herself so busy staring at the child that Peregrine's sarcastically spoken remark took her by surprise. "Buh - me?" she asked, staring dumbly at him for several seconds until the absurdity of the offer dawned on her. Of course he wasn't giving away his baby. Grimm gave her tousled head a shake. "Oh - right. No. Uh.. but if you rub her belly, or swing her around, sometimes they quiet down. You know, if she's got a belly-ache."

Peregrine smirked at Grimm's response. He'd caught her off guard, just like she'd done to him. "Yes," he replied emphatically, pushing the wriggling worm of a child even closer to her. Even though she was being a handful, he suddenly felt like he'd pushed her too far away from him. Peregrine scooted forward a bit, resting a broad black paw gently over the squirming, squealing Wildfire. It muffled her cries slightly.

"She's a bellyacher, all right," the father mused dryly. "I've tried all of the above and then some. She's just... well, a brat," he said. He looked down at her, fondness in his eyes despite everything, then glanced up at Grimm. "I'm thinking that the moment her ears open and she hears her own racket, she'll stop. Wishful thinking?"

After a moment, he removed his paw. Wildfire grunted in response, then finally quieted down a little bit. Peregrine quirked a brow, then jokingly introduced the two. "Grimm, this is Wildfire. Wildfire, meet Grimm. You're welcome to come closer," he added to the socked she-wolf. "The other three are inside. There's another girl and two boys as well. Only the boy, Nightjar, has a name. Fox wants to wait to name the other two."

Grimm's grateful smile nearly split her face in two. "Totally wishful." She got to her feet with all the grace of a spider on roller-skates, snatching the cooling kill and depositing it somewhere to Peregrine's left. If the family didn't snap it up, someone else would.

"Hi Wildfire!" she cooed at the tempestuous potato, settling on her belly directly in front of father and daughter. "Wanna be loud-mouthed frands when you've got better control over your bowels? My bro's girl had six - six - of you, and they were poopers. Like - omg-are-you-serious poopers. It was everywhere, all the time - you know like when a bunch of birds settle in a tree and just empty their bowels in sync? Like that." It occurred to Grimm that she should probably address the only other grown-up in the situation. She gave Peregrine a sheepish look. "Ah, so.. what colour are the other three? This lil' dame's definitely named well."

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.

Grimm obeyed the silent warning, even though she was desperate to scoop up the snoozing pup and cuddle the living daylights out of her. Maybe when they were a little older, and their parents hadn't slept for several weeks.

She was wondering which one of Fox's parents the cream colour had come from when Peregrine's question caught her off-guard for a second time. Grimm had successfully avoided the subject for several days, and its revival made her grimace. "Oh - that. Yeah, fine, just laying low. Sorry if I ruined it." Although Grimm still didn't understand that skipping turns had rubbed more wolves the wrong way than her dalliance with Elwood.

The Alpha thought so little of it that he merely shrugged. "You didn't, as far as I can tell. Fox seemed satisfied with the outcome. It's never easy airing your dirty laundry, especially in a group setting like that. But I feel like it's helped clear the air, maybe...?" Mostly, he'd forgotten his own interpersonal issues because the pups' arrival had crammed them on the furthest back burner of all time. By the time he thought of them again, he probably wouldn't even give a shit anymore.

"I apologize for eavesdropping on your private conversation with Wildfire here," Peregrine drawled after a brief pause, "but I couldn't help but notice your mention of nieces and nephews. You've had a lot of experience helping raise pups?" he wondered. Had they ever talked about this before? The Alpha male honestly couldn't remember. But he was genuinely quite curious.

Grimm couldn't say either way - she had yet to interact with either half of Finwood, and wasn't in any particular rush to do so. Ultimately, the only opinion that mattered was Peregrine's - and by extension, his wife's. He didn't seem keen to discuss the matter further, and Grimm was glad. She had spent quite enough time beating herself up about it.

"I apologize for eavesdropping on your private conversation with Wildfire here," Grimm gave him the same look a builder gives when you suggest a job is 'going to be cheap and quick, right?'. "You'll be in deep doo-doo if she finds out. But yeah - I have like.. five..six brothers? The oldest ones had pups as soon as they could physically make it happen." Wrocław and Wessel were both virile wolves, and their poor mates had birthed a mammoth six pups each. "There were twelve pups around all at once, and both of my bros settled nearby - I think they knew they wouldn't be able to cope with all the babies alone. Crazy time. I didn't like their mates much, but the pups were cute. Until they became teenagers, obviously - yikes. I was unanimously voted Most Uncool Aunt Ever, but I think that's because I was the only aunt, and I'd wiped every one of their poopy bums." Bunch of bitches and hos.

Peregrine practically shit himself at the thought of twelve puppies. Had he and Fox really wanted that many...?! What the fuck were they thinking at the time? He was more than happy with their four, which were exhausting enough. They never would have been able to wrangle three times as many. They would have ended up selling half of them for parts after going insane. Fox wouldn't have a vagina or nipples left after that...

Grimm's voice cut into his weird train of thought, particularly when it ceased. He shook his head lightly, mentally playing back her words before saying, "I can't imagine. But teenagers... I can definitely relate to that. I'm hoping that these three won't be as prone to that if they're raised in a whole and loving home. Wishful thinking again?" He grimaced slightly. "I feel like my first litter wouldn't have ended up so moody and bitter if their mother and I hadn't hit the rocks so hard. And then everything just fell apart from there."

Suddenly realizing Grimm would have no idea who and what he was talking about, he shrugged. "These guys will have two loving, doting parents and an awesome pack of wolves to raise them, so hopefully they don't become a bunch of moody jerks." His lips twitched when his eyes fell to the snoring Wildfire. What was he talking about? Wildfire was less than two weeks and she was already a moody jerk.

Grimm couldn't remember if Peregrine had mentioned his first litter before, but she refrained from asking for more details - about the pups or their mother. They had obviously flown the nest, and it sounded like things were still tense (understatement of the century - one was a murderer, and the others had assorted psychological issues of their own).

"It's not your fault. Apparently it's 'cool' to be moody and tortured these days," Grimm consoled with a shrug, eyeing the now gently snoozing Wildfire. "If you kept them fed and warm, I'm pretty sure you did better than most. I'm banking on those ungrateful twelve growing out of it in a few years and coming out here to crown me Best Wolf Ever." A likely story. Grimm snorted and shook her head. "Anyway... how's the lady of the house holding up?" Wink wink, nudge nudge.

He smiled softly, though didn't comment further on the topic. When she asked after Fox, he didn't pick up on her hints and answered honestly. "She's very tired and I don't think she likes being cooped up so much. But she's doing a fantastic job. I was just thinking... the two of us always said we wanted a dozen. We were mad," he said with a quiet chortle. "Four keeps us busy enough."

Deciding Wildfire would be deeply asleep by now, Peregrine stood and gently lifted the pup by her midriff, turning to deposit her into the den. While he was in there, he saw that all were asleep save for little "Derp," who had somehow wormed his away away from the group. The runt needed Fox's warmth and milk more than the others, though Peregrine spotted an opportunity.

Lifting his littlest boy, he stepped back outward Grimm. "Dithithfithbon," he muttered around the slightly squirming "Derp." He smiled, then turned and placed the runt next to his mama, in the hope that he would latch on and begin to nurse. The Alpha then returned to the entry yet again, stretching out in the doorway once more.

"The other two are fast asleep, else I'd introduce them too," he explained, enjoying the momentary peace and quiet. He sort of wanted to catch a catnap if he could. Peregrine let his chin sink to his crossed forelegs, assuming Grimm would eventually get the hint. He didn't necessarily want her to leave right this moment, though, so he absently asked, "Got any name suggestions?"

Derp made a bid for freedom, but his father intervened. Both pups were reunited with their mother, and the promise of forty-five minutes of rare and blissful silence lay ahead of the Alpha pair and their children. Grimm didn't need hints to know that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion.

"Well, tell her good job for squeezing 'em out - they're all super-cute," she murmured, rising up to sit. "Maybe.. Angry-Pants and Screamo? Or.. Blackbird?" she added, more serious in her third attempt. Naming children after animals seemed to be a theme for both parents. "Wren, Finch, Falcon.. Woodley, maybe? Like Finley and Elwood mooshed up together? Hm.." Grimm got to her feet and stretched liberally, announcing her intention to ponder the question further: "I'll go and have a think about it - if you're going to have eight more one day, you'll need plenty of names to pick from."

Peregrine smiled faintly at her less than serious suggestions, then even more when she proposed Blackbird. It seemed a popular option, though he was actually liking it less and less for that very reason: it was too obvious of a choice! Of course, it was up to Fox in the end and he would call her Tar Pit if that's what his mate wanted. She did look like a little ball of the stuff...

He was already drifting when Grimm suggested a portmanteau of the Betas' names. That would be a cool way to pay homage to the kids' godparents. But why would Grimm, of all wolves, suggest it...? That was his last thought before Peregrine slipped away completely, oblivious to the she-wolf's ultimate departure.