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

The fox struggling to stand was what put an end to its torment, ironically. Nightjar had no intent of killing the creature. Fox didn't make a good meal, and anyway, if he killed it, he would never get the chance to mess around with it again. So when it tried and failed to get its shaky legs under it, the burly boy slowed to a trot and then wheeled around, leaving the fox in peace. It would eventually walk away. It might have a fracture or two from its most recent tumble, but Nightjar wouldn't know.

He waved his tail high as he trotted back toward Elwood with his tongue hanging out of his panting jaws. It was rare that he spent much time playing, so enjoying this game with his godfather was one of those special moments he wouldn't soon forget. His tail drooped as he drew near to the beta male, and once close enough, he made to affectionately bump the man on the underside of his chin if Elwood would allow it.