Redhawk Caldera The night is still young

Lasher agreed to walk with him. As he fell into step beside the swarthy Alpha male, Peregrine reached over to nip the other male's cheekbone before facing forward and trotting off into the cool April night. He led them away from the borders a ways, then turned to follow a course parallel to the caldera. Its great shadow loomed over them, darker than the purple night that fell deeper and deeper around them, swallowing them.

They proceeded in companionable silence for a stretch. Peregrine found himself wondering if Lasher still felt the same as ever, unwilling—no, unable—to court him as long as he was here with Fox. He didn't spend long on that thought, though, and let it spin away into the dusk. He was happy that Lasher was in his life, in whatever capacity, and was satisfied with their friendship.

Still, he wasn't perfect. Peregrine couldn't resist reaching out to touch his nose to Lasher's cheek. He felt a warmth pass between them. Then he woofed, his breath ruffling the ocher fur beneath his companion's ears. Peregrine then turned and broke into a gallop, inviting Lasher to give chase. So this would be less of a walk and more of a run then.