Redhawk Caldera yes yes, bombay is very nice this time of year.

War was not what Whip expected to walk into after being away from home for so long. He assumed the Caldera would carry on without him in the way it always had; insular, with a clear line of seperation from the other local packs. But, things weren't as they used to be. For as much as Whip loved Elwood and Finley, both as godparents and family, they were not Redhawks. Competent leaders they may be, the legacy of this pack and family did not truly belong to them. 

So many had gathered to hear Finley speak. Whip scanned the faces of his compatriots and realized there were more strangers among them than those he remembered from the old days. Even his own siblings were unfamiliar to him. It was an unnerving feeling that followed, like he didn't belong here. Not anymore, or rather, not yet.

He did not recognize the names of the other packs. Drageda. Blackfeather. One was friend. The other, foe. Whip did not know the measure of the damage their northern neighbors had wrought, or for what reason besides wanton cruelty, but he could gleam enough from Finley to know that something should be done about Blackfeather. They sounded like monsters -- atavists. Like Ferret. Like Whip himself. To wipe them out would be a greater mercy.

Whip would kill them. Wanted to. Women. Children. The lot of them. He knew what he could do.