Redhawk Caldera have you tried flushing the cache?

"Made bad choices, I guess," replied Nightjar, searching Phox's face for any sign that he was familiar with Peregrine's history of doing exactly that. The patriarch of the Redhawk clan had made a lot of good choices, too. In fact, he hadn't made any more bad ones than the average wolf, but the publicity of them and the way Fox handled them was enough to exaggerate their severity. There was the tricky matter of one such decision nearly costing Wildfire's life; briefly, the male wondered what would have happened to Peregrine had his sister actually been killed rather than just injured.

"He let an outsider into the pack that almost killed Wildfire, once," he offered by way of example, and only then did he realize that that was the only real example he had to share. Fox had seemed miffed at Peregrine more often than just that from what he could recall, but what Nightjar didn't know was that it was a result of old Pops' health problems more often than not. While he might have abandoned a weak mate if he had one, he failed to know that he was exactly like Fox in that regard, having never been close enough with her to see it.

"Mates are," he answered, but his brows furrowed as he considered the truth of that. They were supposed to be, but they were also supposed to be partners. Equals. If one was weaker than the other, in strength or mental capability, and didn't make up for it in other ways, then they couldn't be equals... and if they weren't equals, then one was the leader, and dominated the other. But such a wolf could have their pick of any subordinate in the pack if that was the case. Why keep a weak mate around at all? It was a question for his mother, but he could no longer pose it to her, and he stared pensively ahead as he realized for perhaps the first time that they were well and truly gone.