Goldenwing steps forward a pawstep, not showing any harm, just worry for her kit, horrified that the fox might have gotton him.
Bramblekit squeaks, the scurries out of the den, over to the fresh-kill pile, dragging off a plump squirrel, showing it to the fox as a peace offering, then drops it at his own paws. "You can take this... If you promise to leave."
(Okay)
