Redhawk Caldera No protest from me.

Yes! He'd done it! Njal was caught off guard, and Nightjar sl—

Oh, wait. The grizzled wolf moved at the last moment and Nightjar, who had braced himself for impact, went stumbling past the older wolf's shoulder. He turned a slow circle, slowing to a canter, with his right ear aloft and his left trailing behind, useless as always.

He didn't know what else to do. If Njal could evade him that easily, then there wasn't much hope for him getting the man's tail. If faced with an enemy, precision wouldn't matter in the slightest to Nightjar—he would shred anything in reach without any regard for precision—but this wasn't an enemy and his goal was not to eradicate. His goal was to hit the mark.

Unfortunately, his thought process ended there and his instincts took over, and his instincts told him to do it again but to turn this time. So, like before, he charged headlong at Njal with his sharp little teeth bared, but this time he swung to the left, as if to intentionally pass by the older male... but he would skid at the last moment and turn his jaws toward Njal's rear, as if the Warden would actually permit it. This was the extent of his tactical approach for now, and was almost the extent of his tactical approach for life. Feigning was the most advanced thing he would ever do, and yet he was too young, too unpracticed, to think of that now.