Redhawk Caldera have you tried flushing the cache?

His tail beat at his hocks when the silvery black phase boy turned and greeted him. Wordlessly, he leaned forward and planted a fond lick across what he could reach of Phox's face. After all, it was this boy who had pleaded for him to stay. Nightjar would have anyway but he wouldn't forget the feeling that welled up in his breast to know he was wanted in that way. It was a sensation he hadn't enjoyed in a long time.

"No," he replied truthfully when asked if he was a hunter. "Dad tried to teach me once, but I'm not very good at it. Too slow." That, and his bum ear got in the way a little. Even with full use of the other one, he lacked one-half of his sense of hearing, which played a major role in hunting. He couldn't tell when there was a pack mate or a prey animal running to his left. He simply wasn't equipped to be a hunter, even if he had ever taken an interest in it. He hadn't.

Speaking of dad, this was the second time one of the pups had referred to their father by his name rather than his familial title. Nightjar found that profoundly sad, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "but I don't gotta be a hunter to help you if you like. I'm actually trying to map out where all the caches are, myself. What do you need me to do?"