Redhawk Caldera Everything the light touches

I blame Kim for this.

The puppies were nearly six weeks old, a fact which blew Peregrine's mind. Each day, they spent more and more time outside, much of it away from the den site entirely. Eventually—within just a few more weeks—the family of five would relocate to a rendezvous site, living out in the open full time. The Alpha male found he wanted time to speed up and slow down simultaneously.

Right now, he just wanted to savor the present. It was daybreak and everyone was still asleep save for him and @Nightjar, who was sleepily bumbling around the den. Peregrine watched him for a minute before rising and walking over to the chubby little cub. He smiled down at his son. Soon, the boy would be too large to carry. With this in mind, Peregrine bent down and latched onto the pup's scruff. He carried him outside, walking several meters beyond the den before he lowered Nightjar, allowing him to walk on his own as the Alpha led the way toward a nearby hillock.

"Look around you, NJ," Peregrine said once they reached the small pinnacle, which afforded them a rather splendid view of the orange sunrise. He knew Nightjar couldn't really understand that much yet, but the more he spoke to him, the quicker he would learn to talk himself. "Everything the light touches is our kingdom. Did you know that? Were you aware that you are, in fact, a prince?" His nose wrinkled as he looked down at the boy.

Having disturbed his own nap by peeing on himself in the middle of a rather perplexing dream about being a fish, Nightjar stumbled around the dark den, half asleep but unable to reclaim it. Peregrine must have sensed that his son was having difficulties, for when Nightjar stood up for the umpteenth time, the Redhawk Caldera patriarch swept him into his jaws and toted him out into the open air.

Nightjar's eyes were half-lidded for this entire journey, but when he was placed down on the ground and prompted to follow, he did so obediently and attentively. The hazy morning air perked him up right away. By the time the two wolves, father and son, reached the top of the hillock, Nightjar was bubbling with giddy giggles and babbling away, using none of his total of four words to say anything meaningful.

Peregrine addressed him, and Nightjar's inquisitive eyes sought his father's as his right ear turned attentively forward. The left, as usual, tilted listlessly to the side as though it didn't really know what to do. The abbreviation of his name was as normal to him as his full one, so he dutifully attempted to repeat it in the middle of Peregrine's sentence with an exuberant chirp of, "Juh, juh!" Almost everything that Peregrine said went completely over his head, especially since he was pretty quick to busy himself with prancing in circles rather than truly listening, but emphasis on a particular word brought him back to the conversation.

"Pssss," he copied, mincing the word in a terrible way and sounding more like some kind of demented snake than a prince.

His children's attempts at speech never failed to delight him, whether they were right on the money or so far off the mark to be absurd. When Nightjar tried to vocalize, apparently mimicking his father, Peregrine waved his ashen tail to encourage the pup. His lips spread into a faint smile when the boy tried to say prince, only to sound like he was speaking parseltongue or something.

"Yes, you're a handsome little piss," Peregrine quipped, reaching out a broad paw to clap gently over the crown prince's head. "Maybe one day, all of this will be yours?" he added, withdrawing his foot and using it to point at the splendorous morning view. "But you'll have to share it with your sisters, unless of course one or some or all of you decide to strike out on your own instead..." he thought out loud. He wasn't opposed to the idea, though he hoped at least some of his children (from this litter or future ones) would stay to inherit the caldera.

"Psssss!" Nightjar repeated, kneading his paws against the soil like some sort of feline and gazing adoringly at his father's face rather than the splendid caldera he was supposed to be looking at. "Pssssssssssssss," he continued to quietly hiss to himself as Peregrine swept a paw over their surroundings, drawing his young son's attention to the grey-blue basin of the topless mountain.

His father was speaking. Nightjar could comprehend far more than he could say, and understood the concept of sharing in some minimal fashion. He knew his sisters were Wildfire and Raven. The rest of what his father said was more confusing. Although he couldn't comprehend enough to realize it, and although he couldn't say it, it was unlikely that Nightjar would ever leave Redhawk Caldera, and it was equally unlikely that he would be the one to inherit it one day. His aspirations would lie elsewhere. Still, as if he appreciated his father's future gesture, he pressed himself closer to Peregrine's sturdy leg and crooned, "sterrrrkerrrt?"

The idea that his son might henceforth frolic around the caldera screaming about piss brought a smile to the father's lips—well, it broadened the one already there anyhow. His jade eyes were brimming with adoration as he looked down at his little boy, who was making another valiant effort to speak now. Peregrine didn't initially understand what Nightjar was trying to say. Star cart? Stir cat? Oh—strike out. Duh.

"Ssstay," Peregrine countered with an impish gleam in his eye. "I mean, do whatever you want, little man. But daddy would def like it if you strongly considered inheriting this wondrous natural palace." Once again, the Alpha's eyes swept the view, though they soon returned to Nightjar's little mug. His son's face was far more beautiful to him than even the most majestic of daybreak horizons.

"Sterrrrrrrerrrerrr," Nightjar tried and failed to mimic. Peregrine quickly moved on to say more unfamiliar words, while Nightjar continued to mutter "errerrerrerr" over and over and over in the background. It was natural for a child his age to repeat things almost to the point of annoyance, especially because he liked the sound of his own voice, as most young boys do.

"Errerr," Nightjar continued, staring up with that same goofy look of adoration that he'd worn the entire time at his father's dark face. Although it was clearly not the case, Nightjar imagined that Peregrine understood everything he "said" and responded appropriately. "Pssss sterrerrrerr," he said conclusively, then turned his eyes directly toward the rising sun before realizing how terrible an idea that was and squeezing them shut with an alarmed yip.

Peregrine played along quite well, nodding at Nightjar's remarks and replying, "Yes, piss stirrer. Exactly." He wondered if a piss stirrer was like a lesser form of a shit stirrer. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he considered asking his son his thoughts on that matter, if only to hear more of his adorable babbling. Slowly, the Alpha male lowered himself directly in front of the boy to engage him in conversation. His body cast a shadow over the cub, but not before Nightjar stared directly at the rising sun.

"Oop, yeah, that'll sting," the father said soothingly, nudging his son's cheek. "Just keep 'em shut for a few seconds and you'll be fine. But, uh, yeah... you should probably avoid staring directly at the sun. You'll burn out your retinas, son," Peregrine said sagely, sounding very serious even though it was all a joke. One day, Nightjar would know better and, for now, Peregrine would happily act as his shadow caster.

"You wanna go for a walk, little piss? Walk?" he emphatically repeated the one word he thought his son might actually understand, then waited patiently for the pup's reaction.

Peregrine's cold nose touched his cheek and Nightjar let his eyes pop back open. This time, he had the good sense to glance away from the sun. His father's shadow fell over him, blocking the bright star from view and saving Nightjar from losing another of his senses, even temporarily. Of course, the boy wasn't entirely appreciative of this, if only because he didn't realize it was done consciously. He didn't even fully realize that the sun was still there, burning behind Peregrine. Part of him believed it had wholly disappeared.

When urged to go on a walk, the cub jumped to his feet. He knew that word, and though he couldn't say it properly, he knew exactly what it meant. "Wuk! Wuk!" he emphatically agreed, readying himself to run off as soon as Peregrine began leading the way. Nightjar was far too obedient to actually run off, and the parents were able to catch up to him very easily when he did get a little too far ahead. It didn't stop him from being overeager about the speed of a "walk", though!

Naturally, the pup quite enthusiastically agreed to a walk. Smiling at him, Peregrine took several steps, motioning for Nightjar to either run alongside him or follow behind. It was up to him. Meanwhile, the Alpha looked ahead, wondering where to take his sun on this early morning jaunt. The puppy couldn't go too far from the den yet—it was simply too dangerous, not to mention that he likely didn't have the energy stores for such a trek—but perhaps they could walk slightly uphill to a small copse of trees with which Peregrine was familiar.

As the ground began to rise, he slowed down to make sure he didn't wear out Nightjar right off the bat. "This is a hill," he informed his little boy. "You might feel a little funny. That's because walking up a hill makes your muscles and lungs work harder than usual." Nightjar probably wouldn't understand most of that, yet Peregrine liked to think that his son's mind would soak up the information like a sponge, then perhaps recall it later, when he was older and better able to comprehend such abstract concepts.

Peregrine didn't have to motion twice. Nightjar got to his feet with an alarming amount of speed and energy and was already bounding up the hill by the time Peregrine was explaining how he would feel. Nightjar didn't understand, and because he was a child who was almost impossible to tire out, he didn't even really notice the symptoms until he was already at the top. There, his lungs began to burn for oxygen and he panted and flopped down on his rear.

The trees weren't entirely unfamiliar to Nightjar, but this was the first time he'd ever been really close and personal with them. The den front was rather open and accessible, but the pups weren't permitted to go to the trees by themselves. Now that he was close, Nightjar stood up again and pressed his face against the rough bark of the nearest trunk, then passed it sidelong, rubbing the entire length of his body against it and leaving behind a few downy hairs.

His son didn't seem deterred by the steep incline, though Peregrine chuckled to himself when Nightjar reached the top of the hill only to flop onto his bottom. "Told you," the father rumbled affectionately, striding up to the pup and nudging him. "You're a big, strong boy, NJ," he mused, both pride and affection thick in his voice as he regarded the little prince.

As soon as he caught his breath, Nightjar jumped to his feet and roved toward one of the nearby trees. Peregrine watched in silence as the youngster pressed his face against the bark, then thrust his chubby little flank against it. The Alpha licked his lips, making a note of this behavior. Perhaps Nightjar would be interested in joining him on a patrol, where he could introduce his son to the notion of borders and the importance of keeping their boundaries marked.

"What will you be when you grow up, I wonder?" Peregrine mused, too quietly for his son to hear. He walked slowly behind Nightjar, simply shadowing the cub as he explored the copse of trees to his little heart's delight.

The boy turned his head every time Peregrine spoke, but there wasn't much about what was said aside from his nickname and "big" that he really understood. He knew he was larger than his sisters, but he was much smaller than every other wolf in the pack, so the concept went over his head. He couldn't possibly know that his bulk now suggested his future as a very large wolf, and he didn't feel all that big, anyway.

He continued to pass along each tree, marking them with strands of his hair. The behaviour was informed by his instinct rather than logic or reason. He had no idea why he was doing it at first, but it did feel good, and pretty soon he was rubbing his cheek repeatedly over the rough bark of a tree several feet away from Peregrine. His tail beat back and forth and his eyes rolled back briefly as pure bliss crossed over his face.

The Alpha's lips twitched as Nightjar continued rubbing himself against every single tree, leaving behind little baby hairs. Peregrine stopped to sniff at one, his jade eyes still fastened to the youngster. Yes, he would have to show his son the ropes of guardianship, he decided. Whether the boy ultimately decided to pursue it as a formal trade was up to him, of course, but his dad would definitely introduce him to the field of study.

"Hey, NJ," he called after a while of silence, "watch this." He waited for the pup to face him, then took up a position perpendicular to one of the trees his son had already passed. Nightjar was too young for some things but this lesson was essential for any little boy (and especially one that might be a Warden someday). Making certain the pup was paying attention, Peregrine hiked a leg against the tree and unleashed a stream of urine, which splashed at its base. "Why don't you try?" he suggested midstream.

Nightjar whirled around when Peregrine called his name, and when told to watch, he did so obediently. He veritably stared as Peregrine paced next to one of the trees and then lifted a leg. It was like flipping a little switch in his head that informed him whether a behaviour was proper for a wolf or not, and whether he would be expected to do it later or not. "Later" came much sooner than anticipated, for when the Alpha finished marking, he invited his son to do the same.

Little Nightjar moved to do as his father asked. He approached the exact spot that Peregrine had marked, sniffed at the pungent ground, and then turned his side to the tree. He sought his father's gaze for a moment before he unsteadily lifted his hind leg. It took almost a full minute of rocking on the spot and correcting his balance before he managed to prop his haunch against the bark, and then he loosed the entire contents of his bladder to mimic Peregrine, albeit very inefficiently and very unsteadily. When he was finished, he dropped his leg and promptly stepped in the puddle, which brought a look of discomfort to his face.

"Ewwwwwwewwww," he complained, waddling away from the tree and shaking out his hind foot as he went.

Nightjar chose to mark the very same spot, which earned a chuckle from the Alpha male. He moved out of his son's way, taking a seat nearby as the pup did his best to balance on three legs. Peregrine had to bite back laughter the entire time. He felt his heart swelling again with affection and pride. This chunky little boy, their only living son, was the perfect mixture of himself and Fox. He really was their perfect prince... even if he couldn't piss on a tree to save his life.

"Actually," Peregrine said aloud, "you did a damn good job. But, yeah, you gotta watch your feet. And make sure you're aiming. But you did a really good job, buddy," the proud father said, moving forward to pat Nightjar's head. "Everything the piss touches is our kingdom," he murmured with a chuckle, nipping at the tip of the boy's upright ear before asking, "Wanna try again? Or maybe later?" Peregrine guessed Nightjar might not be too eager for a repeat so soon after messing his paw.

Whatever Peregrine was saying, he was saying it with a note of pride, which was something Nightjar understood very well. He beamed back at his father, unimaginably happy that he'd made him proud with his fairly poor effort to mark the tree. Whatever. Eventually, he would be a professional pissing machine if he kept at it!

Speaking of which, Nightjar eagerly agreed to keep going with cries of, "gen! Gen!" He was unable to contribute anything more to their marking effort, having emptied his entire bladder already, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to squeeze one last drop out of his empty tank just for Peregrine's approval.

The pup actually seemed quite enthusiastic about giving it another go, so Peregrine smiled and swept back onto his feet. "All right," he said to Nightjar, "pick your very favorite tree. Then when you mark it, it will be yours." The young prince wouldn't likely understand all that, nor would he probably remember his chosen tree beyond this moment, though excitement gleamed in the Alpha's eyes and colored his voice as he encouraged little Nightjar to do what boy canines did best: pee on things to mark their territory.

He was instructed to pick his favourite tree. Nightjar studied them all for a long, drawn out minute, trying to decide what would make a tree his favourite. Favourite was a concept he didn't entirely get yet, though. He imagined that there was a right answer, and so with furrowed brow he moved to touch the tree to the left of the one they'd just marked and glanced back at Peregrine for confirmation that yes, this was the right one.

Then he awkwardly lifted his leg, again making a show of balancing himself and eventually relying on leaning against the bark, and attempted to mark it... but the tank was empty. He pushed harder, but all that came out was a loud toot, which sent him into a fit of giggles that caused him to lose his footing and fall over.

The pup did as he was told, though it seemed he didn't have anything left in the tank to mark. Peregrine wondered how long it would take the small boy's bladder to replenish. Maybe he should take him for a drink of water. But before he could react, Nightjar farted and then collapsed in a fit of giggles, earning a fond smirk from his father.

"Goofball," he murmured, moving next to his son and patting him with a broad black paw. "We should get some water—and food, for that matter—in you. C'mon, let's head back." He swiped his snout in the direction of the den, then waited for Nightjar to stand up and bound ahead of him before the Alpha brought up the rear.