Redhawk Caldera If peeing your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis

He watched woefully as Wildfire escaped to the safety of Peregrine's shadow. She wasted no time in coming back out, however, and mocking him for his fall. The cubs were all good-natured, though, none of them particularly inclined toward bullying the others, so of course Nightjar only took this as another challenge. He liked challenges—he liked the straightforwardness of them, and the ability to understand with gestures what another wolf was feeling or thinking. It would become evident in his later days that this would be his primary form of communication, and that he would have trouble comprehending the more subtle nuances of spoken word.

Speaking of words, Wildfire had tumbled over, smacked him (pretty hard, actually), and was now crowing some form of declaration. "Bahabam pthhhbbt," Nightjar returned, unable to articulate around the tongue that now hung between his lips. He'd just blown his first raspberry, although there was no way he'd be able to replicate it.

Raising one of his own broadening paws, he swiped back, hopefully engaging Wildfire in the equivalent of a slapping fight.