Redhawk Caldera Wendigo

Dean's words fell on deaf ears, half-literally. His good ear didn't even turn in response to the male's voice. He was singularly focused on this, his assertion of his place, and missed the implication that this was some kind of fight scene or that Dean didn't deserve it. It wasn't so much about what Dean didn't deserve as it was about what Nightjar did deserve, or at least felt he deserved. Rank wasn't something he typically was concerned with—those who stood at the pack's head were well deserving of it and he hadn't dreamed of challenging any of them before—but when it came to newbies like Dean, there was a definite drive there and he rose to it.

Wildfire had nothing to say, and wasn't joining in. Though a little disappointed that his sister would happily settle below some newcomer, Nightjar didn't take his attention off Dean, who finally responded by bristling and growling. The adolescent rumbled back, pricking his ears as high as they would go and canting his head upward to demonstrate superiority. He glowered into the other male's eyes, using all the ferocity he could muster to pierce through the other wolf's determined gaze, and his lips wrinkled back. Again he kept his tongue behind his teeth, displaying no threat. Nothing but intimidation here, but it was surely a lot of it.