Redhawk Caldera The lost boys

There was tension boiling beneath the Caldera's structured surface. Nightjar felt it keenly. Always perceptive to things unspoken, the remaining Redhawk pup, no longer a pup but a young man with things to prove and ladies to woo tuned into it on the regular but beyond that, he wasn't paying much attention to the goings on of the pack. Right now, his mind was on how he'd woken up following a dream he scarcely remembered with a little friend peeping out at him, and the following perplexing feeling of dissatisfaction.

He roamed the Caldera aimlessly, looking for a distraction from his inner feelings, and was stopped only by the sound of rummaging. Had he been walking the opposite way, with deaf ear aimed toward it, he would've missed the noises coming from the whelping den his parents had chosen. Not knowing whether or not the location of the whelping den was sacred, the young man thrust his head inside and gruffly called, "'sup?"

Taking NJ in a bit of a different direction to help differentiate him from Farstep. Now with 2x the speaking and 10x the jock!