Redhawk Caldera have you tried flushing the cache?

"After the cold season," Nightjar vaguely supplied. He didn't know if there was a set time that it happened, but he guessed Phox had never experienced it if he had to ask about it. Any man who had experienced it would never forget it. "The bitches will get restless," he added, remembering some of his most vicious encounters with female wolves occurring during the late winter and early spring, "and you'll know when it's time." If not by the smell, then by the fact he would be rock hard almost all the time. Nightjar had been last season, anyway.

To the boy's second question, Nightjar rolled his shoulders upward in an awkward walking shrug, though his silver eyes glinted dangerously. "If you can beat me," he said ominously, and left it at that. He didn't intend to threaten his younger brother after all, and his lip turned up at the corner to show he didn't mean anything by it now. However, Nightjar was as wild as they came at his core, and when it came down to it, he would attempt to beat the shit out of any male wolf who came between him and his desire to produce strong offspring to continue the Redleaf-DiSarinno legacy. That would include Phox if necessary.