Redhawk Caldera WE GOT GAME

As the days went on, Nightjar became less and less vocal. His preference for body language developed rapidly. It was likely a combination of not always knowing the right thing to say and being bested by both of his more intelligent sisters in that department, but he was also very instinctual, and so he found he communicated better without so many words. That's not to say that he suddenly stopped speaking—that was far from true—but he did so less frequently as he matured and grew out of his excitable puppy stage and into his juvenile stage.

Nightjar was rumbling testily at Raven while Fox tussled with Wildfire when Peregrine arrived. The boy pitched his ears forward and gave one last growl to assert his position above his dark-haired sister (something he did on a regular basis, though never with the intent of harming her or her feelings), then turned to face the alpha pair as their daily activity was announced. His eyes flashed greedily at the prospect of a large hunt; he was okay at hunting small game, though he was pretty slow when it came to the chase, so hunting large game was a challenge that the hot-headed Redhawk was ready and willing to take.

By now it was clear to all from his body language alone that Nightjar thought he was going to be actually participating, for the entire concept of "watching" the other Redhawk wolves went in one ear and out the other.

As Peregrine began leading the way to the chosen location, Nightjar surged ahead with an excited growl. His tail waved at half-mast behind him, and he kept on going in his lumbering way while both his sisters pulled ahead of him. He aimed a sharp nip at each of them as they went by—playful but also rough, as was Nightjar's way—and followed without the slightest disappointment for being both the stupidest and the slowest of the pups. He didn't need to excel at those things; he was without a doubt the strongest of them, and that's all that he really cared about anyway.

His voice joined that of his sisters, though like the previous times he'd howled, it didn't actually have any clear message in it. It was just a howl. It served the same purpose anyway, but Nightjar wasn't proficient enough—and never would be—to speak clearly through a howl. They slowed to a trot as Pan joined them. Nightjar chuffed loudly at the pale male he had spent some time with at the borders, waved his tail, but chose those signs over words in way of greeting. Elwood joined as well, but the young male was too breathless by then to greet him similarly, so he merely grinned.