Redhawk Caldera The crisis in the crossfire

Just as Bronco had intended, the cross-eyes elicited more laughter from Killdeer, and the boy mirrored the expression right back. But they reverted to normal as his father explained, and at the exclamation, the gesture, he peered across the water, staring hard at the far-off creature.

Big rat, he remarked, brows lifting high. He'd seen rats before; they liked to burrow in fallen leaves and pine needles, and he'd come close to catching them once or twice. Long, stringy tails. This thing looked. . .well, a lot larger. 

In fact, it kind of reminded him of what he and the Redhawk she-wolves had fought off that one time, and he battled back some trepidation. Is'it dang'rous? Killdeer slurred, putting to use one of his newly acquired vocab words, albeit sliding freely along each of the many syllables. 

Towhee's absence had made him a little more fearful. Without his grandma around, the foundation of his life had gotten a bit more rocky. His father's re-appearance had made it more so. He'd found himself more riskaverse lately, though he'd deny it to anyone who'd ask.