Redhawk Caldera Don't tell me I'm fine

Raven complied with Nightjar's silent desire, primarily because Wildfire, the ringleader of their little trio, commanded her to do so with a flick of her snout. Yet the red-haired naturalist, the most petite of them, remained and even began to step toward him. Displeased with this, mostly because he didn't think this was a task that suited her and a little bit because he didn't want her to interfere with his one opportunity to let his talent shine as she had in the hours before the storm, Nightjar rumbled deep in his chest.

But she came on anyway, bold like she tended to be (at least around family), and Nightjar relented. His rumble choked off. Still, he fixed her with eyes that were heavy and serious and grumbled, "it's too dangerous." What made it too dangerous for her and not for him? His strength, for one. Wildfire was an accomplished young warrior as well, but she lacked his physicality. His instinct, for another. Hers was attuned to nature and plants and stuff, but his was completely wild, giving him an edge in this situation, or so he believed.

There was the matter of gender differences and the fact that Nightjar, being male, was probably inherently slightly better at physical pursuits... but that wasn't something he'd been raised to believe in. He could only hope that Wildfire would agree that it was too dangerous and let him do the work himself, both to save her the pain and to prove himself to the pack as she and Raven had.