Redhawk Caldera A hidden smile, a nervous look

Novia didn't have to tell Nightjar she wasn't a trespasser for him to know it—if she was, there would be at least three wolves at her throat by now, and she certainly wouldn't smell like Peregrine—but he was intent on practicing and she was the only one around to serve as his target.

"No you're not! You're a trespasser!" Nightjar hollered again, readying himself to charge and put down the threat. Of course, he was nowhere near ready to actually dispatch anyone and he wouldn't really hurt a pack mate, but he would go through the motions.

Still, right before he ran at her, he whispered conspiratorially, "I know you're not a trespasser but you gotta pretend, okay?" He didn't give her his name, though, either because he had the good sense to withhold his information from strangers or because he hadn't really heard the question (probably the latter). With that said, Nightjar charged with his jaws wide open, planning to hit somewhere on her chest with a bite that was rough, but not intentionally harmful.