Redhawk Caldera have you tried flushing the cache?

Phox twisted his face up at Nightjar when he mentioned "bad choices." He was pretty sure Peregrine and Fox only ever made good choices. Isn't that why they were the alphas for so long? He was about to ask something along these lines, but Nightjar spoke again, much to Phox's surprise. He didn't really seem like the talkative type. This was a story that Phox had probably heard, but he had also conveniently forgotten it. "He would never do that!" the boy muttered under his breath.

"Who's your mate?" Phox asked, as if this weren't an intrusive or inappropriate question in the least. And for Nightjar, maybe it wasn't either of those things. He seemed decidedly different from the other wolves Phox had met. He never balked at a question, never seemed to be nervous about answering anything that other adults danced around.

Phox moved on to the next cache, digging around until he found a single leg of elk. It still smelled fresh, so he covered it back up. He mentally counted how much food he'd found while listening to Nightjar.