Redhawk Caldera Look what they've done to my brain, ma

Nightjar grinned a wolfish grin when Elwood, rather than berating him for tormenting a poor, defenseless fox, quickly joined in on the fun. The fox would get away with its life no matter what, but only the wolves knew that. They held the cards. They were as gods, determining whether or not the lesser being lived. They could make it do anything they wanted. Well, realistically the only thing they could do was herd it, and they were doing a pretty good job of it.

Elwood came away with a tuft of red hair and Nightjar woofed his approval and sped up once more. The fox was more frantic now than the first time and reaching out to grab it was harder, but a few extra bounds and he was able to snatch it up by the tail. By now the poor thing was probably delirious with fear, but Nightjar didn't empathize with it. Its pain and its emotions didn't matter in the slightest to him.

He proved it by slamming on the brakes, effectively swinging the fox ninety degrees before releasing it again. Now it took off in a different direction and the adolescent whipped his head around even as he wheeled to chase it again, eager to see how Elwood reacted to this change. The fox might very well get away from them now, but the intent was never to kill it anyway.