Redhawk Caldera Things things things

Phox had been near Raven's ribcage when she spoke, and the vibrations sent him squirming and worming this way and that. He rarely had a real direction he was going, but he seemed to love flailing his little limbs about every which way. Not only that, but he had begun to taste the world around him. His little snoot was still small and not terribly useful, though it was more powerful than any of his other senses (sans touch, which he used often). His little head wobbled on his neck, wavering as he attempted to make sense of this strange world he'd been thrown into.

He was nowhere near a teat, but he put a tuft of Raven's fur in his mouth anyway and tasted it. It was not nearly as unpleasant as the dirt he'd tasted earlier in the day, but equally as not tasty as the milk that he drank.