Redhawk Caldera a bolt of blazing gold

Phox shrugged. "You sure it'll come off in the winter?" he asked. He felt out of breath more often than not, and he had started to wonder if his fat was the reason he hadn't been able to take down that deer he had tried so hard to hunt with Lagan and Towhee. Maybe if he'd been a little sprier, he could have gotten it. Maybe if he hadn't been so slow he wouldn't have messed it up so bad. "I always try and eat stuff before it goes bad. Maybe I shouldn't do that, but y'know, seeing it go to waste is so awful," Phox lamented.

"I don't look like Towhee and Orca, and they're always faster than me. I wanna be fast, too." Phox wanted to be fast so he could take down deer and provide for the pack. That was more or less his sole purpose (aside from learning about the stars, but that didn't seem to do much good for anybody else). Towhee could fight off intruders, Orca could... well, he was pretty sure she was doing something better than him. And what could he do? Check the caches and eat all the food that others had forgotten about? That didn't seem like a terribly useful skill.