He rose in the morning, none the wiser to the celestial event mounting overhead, and proceeded to complete a patrol along the northern half of the Caldera's borders. He slaked his thirst from a rivulet cutting down the mountainside from the side of the lake that had been struck in a storm long ago, then began to ascend effortlessly toward the rendezvous site, where he might snatch an hour or two of sleep before trying his luck at finding some prey.
There was less and less of it around the Caldera lately. He often felt the sharp pinch of hunger, but unlike at least one of his younger siblings, on the off chance Nightjar did catch something, he was more concerned with replenishing his own strength or dropping meager offerings in a cache for another adult than Finley's pups. After all, he was convinced they were destined to fail the pack regardless if they lived or died. He was of the unpopular opinion that that food better served the adults who were already contributing, and that was who he tried to give it to. But anyone who knew him knew he was a terrible hunter, so more often than not, he came back empty-pawed.
Still, he went out daily in an effort to help, and so he would today after a quick nap to stave off the hunger. He yawned mightily as he broke from the cover of the trees into the wide clearing, and that was when he noticed that it was dark as dusk. Blinking, the wolf tilted his head back and caught sight of the sun, or what had been the sun. It was a crescent now and shrinking rapidly. Nightjar watched it for a time, a minute and a half or two, then shrugged and went about his business. What happened in the sky was no concern of his, and though it was certainly eerie and reminiscent of some other event from his childhood that he couldn't quite recall, he didn't really care.
He settled under the shade of a broad oak and noted dimly as he began to drift off that his eyes felt itchy and raw. He blinked rapidly a few times, but eventually closed them and settled when he wasn't able to dispel the sensation. He would wash them out in a river when he woke up. His nap was more important for now, so he slept with the memory of the crescent sun burned into his mind.
There was less and less of it around the Caldera lately. He often felt the sharp pinch of hunger, but unlike at least one of his younger siblings, on the off chance Nightjar did catch something, he was more concerned with replenishing his own strength or dropping meager offerings in a cache for another adult than Finley's pups. After all, he was convinced they were destined to fail the pack regardless if they lived or died. He was of the unpopular opinion that that food better served the adults who were already contributing, and that was who he tried to give it to. But anyone who knew him knew he was a terrible hunter, so more often than not, he came back empty-pawed.
Still, he went out daily in an effort to help, and so he would today after a quick nap to stave off the hunger. He yawned mightily as he broke from the cover of the trees into the wide clearing, and that was when he noticed that it was dark as dusk. Blinking, the wolf tilted his head back and caught sight of the sun, or what had been the sun. It was a crescent now and shrinking rapidly. Nightjar watched it for a time, a minute and a half or two, then shrugged and went about his business. What happened in the sky was no concern of his, and though it was certainly eerie and reminiscent of some other event from his childhood that he couldn't quite recall, he didn't really care.
He settled under the shade of a broad oak and noted dimly as he began to drift off that his eyes felt itchy and raw. He blinked rapidly a few times, but eventually closed them and settled when he wasn't able to dispel the sensation. He would wash them out in a river when he woke up. His nap was more important for now, so he slept with the memory of the crescent sun burned into his mind.
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