Redhawk Caldera Bosses are bad, dude

I think it's safe to play as if Nightjar will be accepted in his join thread / create new threads now? If not, please whap and I'll have this removed. I'm just itchy to write. :x

The first day home was spent refamiliarizing himself with the caldera's terrain. It was surprisingly easy. Though he'd been gone for the better part of a year or longer, Nightjar could remember with little issue how to reach the rendezvous site, and how to go from there to the caldera's flat apex. He remembered the game trails winding through the lower half of the caldera. He even remembered the caverns they'd fled into during a storm once, and turned away from them with a silent snarl. To this day he was uneasy underground, just like his sister.

He made his way back to the rendezvous site around mid-afternoon, and flopped down in a flowerbed near the edge to rest. As a kid he'd spent quite some time among the flowers in the woods bordering the rendezvous ste. Nightjar didn't remember it much, but those close to him probably did. When he wasn't fighting he was investigating the flowers, though he never took an interest in their uses like Wildfire and Raven did. He just liked how they smelled, and he still loved that scent. After some pondering, Nightjar proceeded to roll around in them until his fur was thick with their fragrance.

After wrapping up a patrol, the young guardian moseyed ponderously back toward the rendezvous site. She ran into @Phox on her way there and he offered her the fresh rabbit he'd just caught. The Xi gratefully accepted it and upon reaching the pack's hub, she cast her orange eyes about for the perfect place to settle down and eat.

She saw Nightjar rolling in some flowers, which immediately reminded her of Gannet. Towhee didn't particularly feel like sharing, so she thought about going in a different direction. But if he'd seen her, then he might think she was being a bitch. Did she care? She stood there a long moment, trying to decide, the bleeding rabbit still dangling from her jaws.

Nightjar rubbed his skull across the flowers, smashing one or two bees in the process, and opened his bright silvery eyes just in time to see Towhee pause in the near distance. He might have let her go without incident, even though he wanted to get to know her and her "tear-oh" better, but he zoned in on the rabbit hanging from her mouth. He parted his jaws, licked his chops, and sprung to his feet with a speed that didn't quite suit a wolf of his size and stature.

Oh, he had no intention of stealing it from her. Nightjar followed his instincts and while he could be an ass about it, he generally wasn't one when it came to food. His instincts now told him to play, to goad her and see how well she might defend her kill. Even the lowest ranked wolf (himself, as it were) was entitled to dominance over their own food and stealing from pack mates was something he would never do, but Towhee probably didn't know that as he charged straight for her with outstretched jaws.

Although she could ready body language more expertly than most, she couldn't be entirely certain if he was feinting. Since she wasn't a frisky wolf by nature—not with those she didn't know well, anyhow—Towhee opted to interpret his actions at antagonistic. She lifted her lip and growled a warning around the kill, body stiffening and tail arching to indicate that she wasn't planning to share and wasn't going to tolerate any attempts to take her food, playful or otherwise.

When he launched at her, Towhee's teeth dug into the dead hare and she sprang to the side. Now her head lowered so that the carcass's over-sized hind feet dragged on the ground. She didn't pay attention to that; she was too busy splaying her ears backward and snarling loudly, brassy eyes seeing Nightjar's to convey, "This is mine, back off."

He couldn't say he wasn't expecting a poor reaction—in fact, he'd been asking for one—but unlike the rest of his known family, Towhee portrayed real aggression when she sprang aside and snarled at him. He was her superior in age and in the hierarchy, but even so, his ears splayed to the sides apologetically as he frowned at her and skirted to the side.

"Chill, man," he bid in a voice that was slow as ever but loud. He didn't mean to, but he subconsciously raised his voice as if it would make her hear him better. Oh, right, she couldn't hear anything anyway. "I was just playin'. I don't want your rabbit." Surely Towhee knew how to play tug-of-war? Or maybe she didn't? Nightjar was saddened by that thought. Tug-of-war was one of his favourite games and he thought it was a natural icebreaker, but evidently, it wasn't well received here.

The streaked fur along her shoulder blades bristled at the words, "Chill, man," though it pleased Towhee that she could understand him so easily. Unwittingly, she did as she was told and forcibly relaxed, especially when Nightjar added that he hadn't really intended to steal her meat. Her growling ceased, through her expression remained rather humorless as she let her jaw go lax, dropping the rabbit to rest atop her paws.

"Good, because you're not getting it," she shot back. If it was intended sarcastically, it was impossible to tell; as ever, there was no particular tone to Towhee's speech. She knew some folks had trouble understanding her and she subconsciously hoped that he was a special case in that regard too, that this was a two-way street.

Suddenly, her nose wrinkled and she squinted at him. "Is that you?" Something smelled extremely flowery. It struck her as kind of funny, as it was such a delicate scent for a brawny male like Nightjar. But Towhee was able to hold back the smile that threatened to curl the corners of her mouth.

If Elwood hadn't told him that Towhee was completely deaf, he might have thought there was something wrong with her upon speaking one-on-one. Her tone lacked all inflection and it was difficult to derive meaning from it as a result. He could plug any meaning into it and it would be equally likely. It was like reading text and trying to determine the tone, but he clearly wouldn't know what that was like. Luckily, Nightjar took almost everything literally. He was getting better as he got older, but there was still a lack of understanding there that surely stemmed from his mother, for Peregrine had been a much funnier wolf and Nightjar had missed those jokes at least two dozen times.

Still, there was also something distinctly off about how Towhee spoke, like the words all ran together, and he had to take a moment to think about what she'd said before he fully comprehended it. That would probably get better with time. He took her warning literally as well and clapped a paw against the ground as if to say, s'all yours. He flopped down into the grass, sensing that she wasn't about to tear his face off or leave him on his lonesome, and was halfway on his side when she asked about his smell with a wrinkled nose.

He laughed, a throaty chuckle, and said, "yeah! It reminds me of being a kid." Gosh, that was a long time ago. He wondered if Raven was still using Wildfire's badger den for anything. "Better than smelling like shit, right? Do you have a smell or anything that reminds you of being little?"

Her head cocked when he explained the perfume clinging to his fur. She made no response when he compared it to smelling like feces and her orange eyes narrowed slightly at his followup question, not in anger but in contemplation. She almost pointed out that she was still pretty young but he hadn't said "young," he'd said "little."

-Not really,- she replied, then remembered to say it out loud: "Not really." But Towhee couldn't deny that the mention made her curious enough to ask, "Why does it remind you of being a kid?" She paused, then told him, "I'm a chronicler and I'm thinking of trying to become a historian. Can you tell me any stories about, say, mom and dad? Or—you were in the same litter as Raven, right? And our other sister, um..." Towhee blanked, then guessed, "Wildflower? Is that what the smell reminds you of?"

Well, Towhee was still pretty young, even if she didn't really look it. There was lots of time for her to find something that reminded her of being a kid. For Nightjar it would always be the flowers. They weren't a major part of his childhood but there was just something about them that reminded him of his sisters and of home.

"Yeah. Raven and Wildfire," he corrected, "were both pretty into plants when they were little. But actually, I just hung out in flower patches a lot. As for mum and dad... I didn't really hang out with mom much." It was probably a little strange. Nightjar was the most like Fox of all his known siblings, with the exception of maybe Towhee herself, but they'd only hung out a small handful of times. He'd been closer with his father and his godparents than with his own mother. "Dad was pretty cool though. Did you know he killed his own daughter once 'cause she attacked Wildfire?" That had been one of Peregrine's crowning achievements as far as the wild Nightjar was concerned. He'd always looked up to his father after that.

"How well did you know them, anyway?" Elwood hadn't been very clear on that.

Right, she thought as Nightjar subtly corrected her, Wildfire. Raven had talked about Fox's lookalike quite a bit (enough that Towhee ought to be embarrassed for forgetting her name). She wondered why her parents had broken tradition with said sister's name, though the newcomer's next string of sentences effectively derailed that idle train of thought.

-No,- she signed, not bothering to translate seeing as almost everyone understood what that telltale head shake meant, regardless of ptero. Towhee didn't bother disguising her surprise nor her interest. Folding her haunches, she sat, one forepaw coming to rest mindlessly atop the limp rabbit. "Tell me all about it," her expression and body language said clearly.

"I didn't," she said when he questioned her about Peregrine and Fox. "Peregrine—dad—he died in the fall before we were born. And she died the day we were born." These facts were provided with a bit of a somber look, even though she hadn't known them at all and even the words "mom" and "dad" were rather obscure terms for her.

Nightjar didn't know any of Towhee's tear-oh language, but he was sort of an expert when it came to regular body language, and her interest shone through. He smiled and said, "Dad had older kids from some other place before we were born. He used to tell us stories. I can't remember their names. One of them came by one day. I guess she tricked dad into thinking she wanted to meet us but really she just wanted to kill us. Wildfire was closest. Her neck got ripped up pretty bad." The last time he'd seen her, she still hadn't really recovered from that injury. Her voice had been raspy and quiet since the day it happened. Nightjar wondered if she still spoke that way, but figured he would never find out.

"Mom and Aunt Flea and Elwood were there, too," he recalled vaguely, "but dad just went in and ripped her head right off. Sprayed blood all over the place. It was the coolest thing I've ever seen." His memory was a little embellished from the real thing, but surprisingly, he remembered that day pretty well. His ability to recollect was about as shoddy as Fox's had ever been but that particular one stuck out. Probably because it was so traumatic, and had messed him up in his own way. From that point on he'd been completely desensitised to death. It was probably why the loss of his parents while he was away didn't bother him too much.

"Anyway, it's probably for the best you didn't really know them," he said offhandedly. "I think you'd have liked dad. He was really cool. Mom would've eaten you before you got to know him, though."

It took all of Towhee's concentration to read Nightjar's lips, so she didn't bother reacting outwardly. Her eyes did widen at his graphic description of the decapitation. It seemed particularly brutal, though it made sense that Peregrine would exercise extreme prejudice when it came to protecting his innocent pups. The Xi couldn't help but wonder what on earth had gotten into this nameless half-sister that she would try something so idiotic in the first place. Did Nightjar know?

Before she could ask, he said something which struck her oddly. "What?" she blurted, face scrunching. "Eaten me?" she repeated, not entirely sure she'd understood him correctly.

"Yeah," he confirmed with a firm nod of his head. He rested his cheek in the grass and peered up at Towhee, genuinely perplexed that he didn't know she'd be eaten. After all, she was deaf. It was sort of a fluke that she was born into an awesome family who took care of her and taught her to communicate. Nightjar himself would have eaten his own daughter if he had one that was born completely deaf, in spite of his own partial disability. At the same time, he was proud that Towhee had survived. They were sort of like soul siblings, or something.

"Mom didn't like potential weakness," he explained succinctly, then quickly added, "but don't take it too personally. She would've eaten me, too, I think, but she never knew." Actually, Nightjar had told Fox about his bum ear back when Peregrine lost half his eyesight, but he was fully grown and there was nothing she could do about it. He didn't remember it at all.

"Wanna know a secret?"

His answer made no sense to her, though she felt her skin prickling indignantly at the inference. What weakness was he referring to? Then it hit her like a club upside the head: he was referring to her deafness. The Blackthorns and Raven had been careful never to treat it like a handicap, just a unique trait of hers. But Towhee knew it was considered a disability and it certainly felt that way at times.

She snorted, not sure what to make of this information. If Fox hadn't died, she would have killed Towhee? That was quite a lot to process. She wondered why Elwood, Finley and Raven had never mentioned any of this, including the slaying of Peregrine's daughter. She shook her head lightly then. Of course they wouldn't have told her any of this, likely to safeguard her (and the other Firebirds) from the uglier truths in life.

Begrudgingly, she appreciated Nightjar for not censoring the facts. And it took her a moment to absorb what he'd said and read between the lines. "What?" she replied automatically when he mentioned a secret, then added, "Why would she have killed you? What didn't she know?"

Normally, he wasn't so good at subtlety. This was a rare instance where he managed not to come right out and say what he was thinking before enticing his audience into hearing it. He watched expectantly for that telltale reaction to being trusted with a secret. He'd been an extremely eager cub when it came to that sort of thing, even when he was half a year old. She seemed a lot more mature than he was at that age, though. Where he would have been practically wiggling to know a secret, she was more composed.

Still, she did want to know, and he flapped his left ear conspiratorially. He wouldn't so openly tell anyone else, but Towhee would understand. She wouldn't see it as a weakness like others of his family would have back then. Besides, it might help her to know she wasn't (completely) alone, though he wouldn't discredit her by thinking they were anything alike for it. She was the stronger by far. He couldn't imagine being totally deaf. "I can't hear a thing outta this ear. Never have."

Although Towhee knew that hearing was related to ears, Nightjar's great revelation did not click with her. "Wait," she said, orange eyes widening, "you're deaf too?" The words left her in a breathless rush. Maybe that's why she could read his lips so well, because he did it himself and spoke slowly as a result of his hearing loss. It all made sense and Towhee felt excitement blossoming in her chest when she realized she had finally met someone like her, someone who could relate.

Of course, she didn't realize that there was such a thing as half-deaf. But suddenly the unthinkable happened: Towhee rushed forward to touch her nose to the side of his neck, tail wiggling hopefully. Despite being an outsider mere hours before, Nightjar was suddenly her closest ally save perhaps for Raven and Phox. But even they couldn't know what it was really like living in a world without sound; this wolf could.

"Uh," he faltered, and it was just long enough for Towhee to suddenly close the distance and touch him. "Not really, I mean..." He drew back, conscious at least of the fact that she would have no idea what he was saying if she couldn't see him. Being half-deaf did make him a little more thoughtful of things like that. After all, if a wolf spoke to him on his left side, they were lucky if he caught half of what they said to him. In fact, he was very twitchy about wolves being on his left side in general.

"I'm deaf in one ear," he explained. "I can hear okay with the other one, but this one—" he twitched his left ear, "—is totally useless. Not a sound." He'd been born with congenital hearing loss, and Wildfire had simply accelerated the process when she shoved her snout in his ear and screamed. He didn't remember that and wouldn't have really noticed anyway. His was genetic, probably just like Towhee, and he had about a 50/50 chance of losing hearing in his good ear later in life as well. He didn't know it though. That ear still functioned perfectly.

He moved away from her and Towhee stiffened, taking a step back herself and shooting him a questioning look. She watched his mouth move as he explained that only one ear didn't work properly. Having never owned functioning ears, it took the Xi a moment to puzzle out what that meant, though Nigtjar did a pretty decent job at explaining it to her. When the information sank in, she couldn't decide whether to feel crestfallen that he wasn't exactly like her or hopeful that she still had something of a kindred spirit in this wolf.

She was tempted to seize the former feeling and push him away, relegating him to an outsider's status once more. He could still hear, after all, so he couldn't truly understand. Towhee did take yet another step away from him, expression growing stony. But then she paused, unwilling to totally severe the bond she had just established with her elder brother. Even if he couldn't empathize, he could sympathize more than anyone else, even her closest loved ones. And, according to him, they both would've been culled by their mother had she known.

That reminded Towhee: nobody else knew Nightjar's secret. Although there was a part of her that resented him for being able to get away with normalcy like that, she couldn't help but feel special to be the only one that knew. She stared at him for several long beats, eyes slightly narrowed. There was a proverbial fork in her path—keep him close or shove him aside for good—and once she made a choice, she would stick with it.

"Well," she concluded after a long and ponderous silence, suddenly digging her toenails into the dead rabbit, "I guess that only makes you half as cool as me." She snorted. "I'll find you later to teach you some ptero and ask you for more stories. But right now, I'm gonna go eat." And probably think some more, to be honest. Without another word, Towhee bent down and snatched up the hare, then spun and trotted off to find somewhere secluded to partake in her meal.

Nightjar propped himself up on his elbows to watch with knitted brows as Towhee backed away from him. Had he said something wrong? He was sort of famous for doing that. His social awareness could use some work, but this time he really didn't know what he'd done. She made a statement that he completely agreed with, then picked up her rabbit with a promise to teach him her tear-oh before heading off.

He remained there for a short while, watching her go, then laid back on the grass to contemplate whether telling her was a good or bad thing to have done.