Redhawk Caldera sunshine on your toes

Private for @Peregrine. *innocent whistles*

Fox had lost count of the days between the birth of her children and now. It was somewhere between five and eight, though the days seemed to bleed together. She spent nearly all of her time in the confines of the den, caring for the children. Peregrine was in often enough, but he occasionally went out for food or to socialize with the rest of the pack. Envious of his forays outside the den, Fox had begun to despise the children more and more.

At first, it hadn't been much. There would just be mild annoyance when they would squawk, and Fox would remind herself that it was all for the greater good. As the days wore on, though, she became more and more sour. She was less gentle with them, and this only made them louder and more restless. If Peregrine noticed, which he likely did, he probably chalked it up to hormones or just being a first-time mom.

Today, though, Fox was particularly frazzled. The smallest one, the one that was hers to name, would not settle. He squirmed and squealed and could not manage to calm himself. Fox did everything she could think of. She cleaned him. She offered him food. She cleaned him some more. And still he went on and on and on. She couldn't handle it anymore. Just when she was on her last nerve, she nestled him right up against her chest, between her two front legs and laid her head on top of him. His cries were still there, but they were quieter. Enough that she could ignore them, anyway.

Finally, peace.
___

Fox awoke an hour or so later, one of the pups (likely Wildfire) screaming its little head off. Groggy, Fox shifted, hoping to console the latest noisemaker with food or grooming. Something was off, though. Carefully, she scanned the darkness of the den. There was the black one. There was Nightjar. There was Wildfire. There was... shit. Where had he rolled off to? Changing positions, Fox ignored the noisemaker and nosed around the den. “There you are!” she said, nosing the little sandy boy. It was only then that horror cut through her heart. He was cold, lifeless, and unmoving.

He hated to be gone from the den so long, especially with Fox seeming so utterly strained, but he wanted to do something nice for his mate. So he spent a few hours tracking a small herd of mule deer just beyond the caldera, intent on breaking through their defenses and getting at the season's earliest fawn. It took much longer than he would have liked, yet at last he managed to separate the doe from her baby and make the kill. The fawn had barely stopped moving when he grasped it by the throat and began dragging it impatiently across the ground.

When he arrived at the den, he unlatched and stood there a moment, catching his breath and waiting for the twitching in his muscles to cease some. Peregrine then turned away from the den, trotting away into the distance. He reappeared no more than ten minutes later, a sprig of holly in his mouth. There were no flowers yet and he was determined to give Fox this gift. They were both a bit overwhelmed by their large and rowdy litter—that Wildfire was about to fray the last of their nerves—and most of their collective attention went to the pups. But Peregrine knew what could happen if they didn't take the time for each other and he wanted the pups' mother to know he was still thinking of her.

"Hey," he whispered, ducking his head into the den at last. He was greeted by the usual whimpers and cries of their offspring. "I brought you something." He gave Fox a smile, oblivious to the stricken expression on her face or the limp pup at her breast. He backpedaled, snatched one of the fawn's legs and tugged it into the den's mouth. "A whole fawn, just for you. I l—" The Alpha male's voice cut off sharply and died in his throat when he finally saw her expression, then followed her gray gaze to the tiny, prone form lying on the den floor.

Fox didn't even acknowledge Peregrine when he poked his head in to greet her. She was fairly certain that the entire world had stopped around her... along with her heartbeat. The sounds of the other children were muffled with a ringing in her ears. She was just... just dreaming right? This was a terrible nightmare because she hadn't loved them enough. This was just her guilt seeping into her unconscious mind. She would wake up to the sandy boy's squeaks and all would be well.

She wasn't sure how long she stared at him, but eventually, she recognized Peregrine's scent was stronger. And she had a dead pup in her "arms." “I d—” she choked, unable to get the words out. Fox began to shake all over, and things she hadn't felt since before Peregrine came crashing in all around her. She began to whine uncontrollably, panicking as the moments passed.

"You did this," a voice said. "You murdered him."

While Fox began to shiver and quake, Peregrine shot forward, touching his nose against the little one known only as "Derp." He was limp and unresponsive. His body was cool to the touch. He looked strangely ashen. Without a doubt, he was dead, though there was not a mark upon his body.

Feeling stunned and numb, the Alpha male looked at Fox. She was trembling. He instinctively moved nearer, touching his nose to her temple. His legs felt suddenly weak and he sank down beside her, careful not to squash little "Derp" or his three siblings. With a jolt, Peregrine turned and nudged each one of them. They all appeared as loud and wriggly as usual.

What happened? the look on his face asked, though he couldn't find his words. He pressed himself against Fox, staring at their dead son. He had experienced the loss of a child once, though it hadn't been like this; there hadn't been a corpse. This was... incontrovertible.

Touching the dead boy really drove that point home, yet Peregrine did it anyway. Tenderly, he reached out a broad paw and gently, very gently, pulled "Derp" to his chest. He cradled his baby's small, sandy body and bent over him, licking and nuzzling that soft, fuzzy crown and the tiny face that would never grow up or grow old.

Peregrine sank down beside her, and Fox couldn't even stand to look at him. She kept her gaze locked on the small sandy runt. “I just. I just went to sleep and. And I woke up. I woke up and he. He was gone. He’s gone. He’s gone.” Fox felt like a broken record. “I fucked it up, Perry. I fucked it up. I’m so sorry. I don’t even. I think. I think they knew. They knew my thoughts and. And they knew and it killed him.” Her voice became higher pitched and squeakier with each passing word. “Perry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I did it. I did it while I was sleeping, but I did it. I got so mad at them for wanting all my attention. I even thought things. Things a mother should never think.”

Even though she spoke to her mate, she continued to stare at the pup, as if doing so would somehow wake him back up. Maybe, maybe it was still a dream. Maybe she would wake up, and Peregrine would be there, and the sandy boy would be romping with his siblings again. How could she do this? How could she do this to Peregrine?

While he held their son, Fox began to stammer in his ear. Not until her shaky, broken voice filled the den did Peregrine feel anything. As if her words opened a gate inside him, he felt the first wave of grief. It was poignant, yet... it wasn't like when he'd thought he'd lost Junior. He felt a stab of guilt. But that made sense, didn't it? Little "Derp" hadn't even reached a week of age. He didn't have a distinct personality, a voice, a real identity. Their connection had been tragically brief. Peregrine swallowed, his arms tightening almost apologetically around the sandy boy's limp form.

"Fox," he eventually said in a level voice. "This stuff... happens." His voice came out sounding strangely toneless and certainly much less emotional than hers. But he wasn't angry with her, even if she had contributed to his death (and it sounded like she might have accidentally smothered him in her sleep). "We can't beat ourselves up over it." Of course, that would be much easier said than done. But it was natural for some wolf cubs to die. And it sounded harsh but perhaps it was a blessing to lose him early on... and maybe it would help them raise the remaining three a bit better.

Of course, he wanted to address the things she'd mentioned, particularly these dark and dreary thoughts. Peregrine wasn't about to condemn her for them, nor did he for a second believe they'd had anything to do with "Derp's" death. But he wanted to know what she was thinking. Maybe he could help, even if it was only to tell her that all parents thought evil thoughts about their kids sometimes. Everything wasn't always sunshine and rainbows. Reality was much grittier than that.

"You didn't mean to hurt him," he concluded quietly. "I'll bury him," Peregrine added, feeling a pinch in his chest. He hated the thought of putting "Derp's" tiny body into the cold earth, of never seeing his little face again. "Unless you'd like to do something else," he added a bit distractedly, glancing at the trio of living pups. Fox had thought she would curse them by naming them. He briefly wondered if it hadn't been the other way around. "He died without a name," he murmured, too low for her to hear (hopefully).

Yeah, this stuff happened. To other mothers. To other parents. Not to the Alphas of Redhawk Caldera. They were supposed to be the perfect little family. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to them. "We can't beat ourselves up over it." Maybe Peregrine wouldn't. How could he? He'd been away. He hadn't been the one to wake up to a child dead between his paws. He would never have doubts about what might have caused the child's life to slip away while he slept.

"You didn't mean to hurt him," Perry reassured her, though Fox couldn't help but think that wasn't the truth. She wanted to scream out, tell him that she wanted to throw their stupid, selfish tiny heads against the wall. The new mother swallowed back the words, feeling them slide down her throat in a sickly manner. If she'd heard his remark about the name, Fox made no indication of it.

“Let me do it,” she pleaded. “You stay and... watch the other three.” Fox glanced at them nervously, as if they would shrivel up and perish at her touch.

Fox wanted to go instead, leaving him here to look after their three remaining children. Peregrine's eyes teared as he looked at her. "I want to go with you," he murmured. "I want to be there." He looked sadly down at the little body wrapped in his arms. He placed a last lick on "Derp's" head, then rose. His legs felt like jelly and the rest of him just felt hollow, all except for his chest, which was tight.

"Is there anyone you trust to look after them for a few minutes so I can go with you?" He tried to keep his voice even, yet it shook. He didn't want her to have to do it alone. He also didn't want to leave their tiny offspring under anyone else's care. But he desperately wanted to be there to lay their son to rest too.

“Finley,” she whispered immediately. That was the only other wolf she would—could—trust. Sure, maybe she was slightly off her rocker, but she had been there to see the pups the most out of anybody, and she would surely be a better caretaker than the pups' own mother at this point. Wordlessly, Fox rose from where she'd been, the other pups squeaking in the background. She had almost forgotten they were there at all. Her ear twitched backward, but she exited the den just far enough.

Lifting her muzzle to the sky, her tone low and sad, she called for her best friend and the godmother that her first born would never know. Fox didn't even know what Finley's reaction would be. She waited there, hoping that somehow the glowing afternoon light might help her feel better. It didn't, of course. The chirping birds made her feel worse as did the warmth of the air, one of the first signs of spring.

As she long ago had promised to her alphas (silently, in her head - she'd never actually say those words out loud 'cause.. feelings were awkward), Fin had remained nearby the alpha's den every moment she could since the birth of their children. She had been dozing upon one of the higher outcroppings nearby when the sound of Fox's call roused her from her sleep. Immediately, she was on high alert due to the morose tone and the gentle wavering which suggested her besty was suffering somehow. Without a second though, Finley was up and running, even though she wasn't even fully awake or aware she was doing it.

By the time the Blackthorn reached the alphas' den, her senses had fully caught up with her. Her ears fell backwards as she approached and suddenly, she slowed even further. It felt almost as though she had stepped through a dark cloud as she came nearer, and suddenly she wanted to turn around and run, escape whatever darkness was going on here as quickly as she could. Concern and love for her friends won out though, and so soon she was stepping into their doorway, fear and trepidation apparent on her face.

Finley lowered her head to peer at the pair of them, saying nothing as something told her not to. A low whine escaped from her throat as her gaze shifted across their faces, lingering on the traces of pain and sadness etched upon each.

He merely nodded when Fox said Finley's name. While she stepped just outside to summon the Beta female, Peregrine gently plucked their dead boy off the floor. He held him firmly but gently, trying to ignore the fact that "Derp" felt exactly like a dead rabbit. Peregrine had to pause and take a deep breath to keep the bile from climbing into his throat. Feeling as steady as he could under the circumstances, he slowly stepped from the den.

Finley must have been nearby, as she was already there. The sight of Peregrine holding the pup's body would explain everything, of course. Peregrine looked at her, then dropped his eyes. He still held "Derp" in his mouth like the world's most precious and sacred cargo. He wouldn't let him go until it was time to put him in the ground. He waited, letting Fox ask Finley to look after Nightjar, Raven and "Derpina" while they attended to their son's body.

When that was done, his jade eyes sought Fox's. Where? they asked. Where would they lay little "Derp" to rest? It was up to her. He waited patiently for her to lead the way. While this was certainly not on the top of the list when it came to fun things to do and being away from their other children was hard on top of that, this was not something Peregrine wanted to rush.

Finley arrived promptly, and Fox wasn't sure whether to be glad or upset by this. Somehow, prolonging each part of the process felt better than everything coming together right away. Fox felt Peregrine step beside her then, the warmth of his shoulder and the limp pup in his maw. “Watch the others,” was the only thing Fox could bring herself to say to Finley. She gave a long, forlorn look to her friend, then nudged Peregrine's shoulder with her own cold, wet nose.

She strode forward, each step a little bit harder than the last, until they'd come to a clearing. Fox wasn't sure if she'd been here before. With her memory, that wasn't terribly surprising. In any case, it was a pleasant little nook, and one where they might uphold the boy's memory. What little of it there was. “Here,” she said softly to Peregrine and set to digging. It wouldn't take long, given his size.

The moment Peregrine stepped into view with the limp pup in his mouth, there was no use in either of her friends explaining - Fin would not have heard it anyway. Her blood ran cold at the sight of the littlest pup, tucked safely and securely in his father's needlessly protective hold. Her slightly gaping jaw shut tight as she silenced herself. As much as it broke her heart to see this terrible moment in the Caldera's history, she knew that her friends did not need the burden of her own heartache atop of theirs, nor would she intentionally give them the opportunity to do so.

Finley nodded solemnly at Fox's instructions, stepping forwards and pressing her nose softly and briefly against her besty's fiery cheek before slipping into the depths of their den where the other three babes were squirming restlessly. Any anxiety she usually felt at interacting with them was gone as she settled down upon the ground and pulled them all close to her. Even their kneading at her sides didn't bother her as she curled up in a ball, tucking them protectively and tenderly against her, trying hard to stave off her own personal mourning for the one little firebird that was missing from his godmother's embrace.

Peregrine trailed after Fox. As they made this funeral march, his eyes welled with tears which spilled silently down his dark cheeks. He didn't sniffle (much), nor make a sound otherwise. His grip on "Derp's" body remained soft but firm as he followed the Alpha female to a clearing. She began to dig almost immediately. He wanted to help, yet he froze. He just stood there, still holding their little boy, unable to put him down yet.

It didn't take long for the grieving mother to dig a grave large enough for the week-old puppy. Peregrine swallowed and finally lowered his head, placing "Derp" gently in the little hole. He did not immediately back away. His snout lingered just an inch or so from the limp body. He drew in his son's scent for the final time. Then he swiped his tongue over that pale brow—so much like his own mother's—one last time.

Then he stepped back, his heart heavy. He waited for Fox to say goodbye if she wanted. The two of them could cover him up together. In the meantime, Peregrine muttered under his breath, "Goodbye, little 'Derp.'" It wasn't much of a name but his lips twitched into a sad smile as his eyes continued streaming. His son hadn't lived long—not even long enough to get a proper name—but he wouldn't be forgotten.

Perhaps if she had loved them, like she was supposed to, it would not have come to this. Perhaps she would have felt more even now. All-in-all, Fox felt numb. There was a sense of guilt and horror about what she'd presumably done. There was the fear of what Peregrine was thinking about her (despite what he'd said). There was the fear of doing it again, with one of the other children. But there wasn't a deep sense of loss that she'd expected to be there.

Soiled paws pushed away the final loam, and Peregrine gently placed the first born firebird into his final resting place. While Fox generally didn't bury the dead, she had felt compelled to bury this one. Maybe because she feared his body would be ravaged by predators. Or that his body would attract more predators to the remaining cubs. Peregrine mumbled something beneath his breath after giving the child a final kiss on the brow.

Gingerly, Fox stepped forward and nudged the boy with her nose. In some way, she half-expected him to squirm at her touch, warmth returning to him. That did not happen, of course, and she sighed, looking to Peregrine. She would wait for him to begin covering their lost child.

I figured it made sense to skip Finley this round. Please shoot me if I'm out of order (ehhe). >_>

One part of Peregrine hesitated to begin covering "Derp" with earth, as it would be the last time he ever set eyes on their little boy. Another part of him wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. With a final sigh, he began gently shoveling the fresh dirt over top of the tiny body. He swallowed thickly when their son disappeared beneath the soil. Lovingly, he patted it down with his paws. It might have seemed horrible of him to desecrate the grave site this way, yet he backed up a few feet and sprayed the site with urine to warn animals away. He wanted no one disturbing his son's final resting place.

"Let's head back," he said quietly to Fox, gently nudging her cheek. After a final glance at "Derp's" grave, he began padding back toward the den. Even from a distance, he could see the dead fawn and the little sprig of holly left at the door. He knew Fox likely wouldn't be hungry, so as soon as they reached the doorway, he dragged it inside and carefully stashed it in the back for later consumption. He set the little spray of holly near the fawn's head. Perhaps he would put it on the grave later.

"Thanks, Fin," he said to their impromptu babysitter, giving her a brief smile that did not reach his eyes. Instead of dismissing her, he took advantage of the moment to move in beside his mate and grasp her in a wolfish embrace. He heaved a single, sobbing breath into the side of her neck, then fell quiet as he held her, his jade eyes fastened on the three living, breathing puppies they had left.

I think @Finley can hop in now for one last post. :)

Fox watched on blankly as Peregrine covered their son. Watching her mate was definitely the hardest part of the whole ordeal, strangely enough. The nudge to her cheek almost startled her, and she nodded in agreement. She didn't want to be away from their remaining children for long. The journey back was difficult, if only because Fox wasn't sure how to feel. Nothing felt natural, and she was still in a daze when they arrived at their home, Finley and the other three pups still alive and well.

She licked the top of Perry's head when he embraced her, remaining quiet and taking on the role of the strong, silent, and stoic of the two. Fox had never been the emotional type, and she briefly wondered if she was coming off as uncaring. The thought slipped away just as quickly as it had come. Nobody would bother her with such accusations. Nor should they.

"The others need to eat," she said, licking Peregrine's ear. Exhausted as she was, Fox did not sleep when she finally settled into the den. She nudged the other three blips to eat, feeling even more protective over them now. When she finally did sleep, it would be light and full of nightmares.

I shall archive <3

Her time with the firebirds had been rather fun and exciting, actually. But the moment Peregrine and Fox reappeared in the doorway, that joy disappeared. Their faces reminded her of the horrible incident that had brought her there in the first place, and immediately her features fell to sorrow.

Fin cast a glance down at the pups to make sure she had successfully rounded up all three before pushing herself up onto all fours and moving away to allow Fox to take her place. She gazed mournfully at her friend as they traded places, leaning forward to nuzzle gently at her cheek before moving towards Peregrine to do the same. As the pair of parents settled down in their home besides their remaining children, Fin watched solemnly.

After a few moments, she dipped her muzzle and slipped away. She had wanted to tell them she was sorry, that she was there for them the moment they needed her. But none of it was necessary. They knew already. And so, Fin left them in silence - darting quickly and quietly across the territory back home to her own den where she would find her Elwood and fill him in on the terrible things that had happened to their friends that afternoon.