Redhawk Caldera I'm the holy water you can't live without

The muskrat fidgeted and Nightjar slowed, turning his deliberate walk into something of a slow trundle. His huge paws swept quietly over the ground, his weight seemed to surge forward with each step so that his overall form was more bear than wolf, his whole body hitching every time he placed a foot down. His bright silver eyes remained fixed on his quarry and he parted his jaws to pant lightly.

He was so focused that he didn't notice Peregrine in the distance. That was probably just as well; his father was the alpha male and by rights could take any kill Nightjar made, which in turn would discourage success or else encourage food aggression. It wasn't his father's nature to steal from anyone, much less his children, but a wolf's nature didn't always dictate what they would do. Sometimes their wild soul took over, did that for them, and being as in tune with it as he was, Nightjar usually took no chances.

But luckily he hadn't spotted Peregrine and so there was no reason to falter. He took another slow step, paused as the muskrat seemed to flinch, and then took another. Slow, steady, and deliberate: much like everything else about Nightjar, really.