Redhawk Caldera WE GOT GAME

His body was taut with anticipation. At any moment, Magpie would give the signal and the pups would be let loose to join the adults. Of this, Nightjar felt absolutely certain. Even when Wildfire nipped him and told him to watch—he responded with a temperamental growl and a warning to back off in the form of a returned nip toward her nose—he didn't get it. He just didn't understand the point of coming at all if they weren't going to be joining. He didn't have patience for watching things. Nightjar did.

Which is why he grew bored of waiting for Magpie's signal.

Which is why he all of a sudden bolted toward the hunting party.

Magpie sprang after him but Nightjar was already out of her immediate range. He was slow, slow enough that the yearling would inevitably catch up to him and slow enough that he would never reach the hunt before the adults downed their prey, but he did find himself in the midst of the fleeing remains of the herd as he barreled across the open land between himself and the adults. His blood almost burned in his veins, such was his desire to join in and contribute, and it was the fastest he'd ever run... not fast, by any means.