Redhawk Caldera A search for the weak- a call for the broken

Peregrine was beginning to feel his age. Each morning, the weather cooled and he felt a new stiffness in his bones. It was nothing too terrible, just a reminder that he was moving past his prime and cruising toward his golden years. The thought sort of terrified him—he was approaching the end of his life, for goodness's sake—but when he thought back on all he'd been through and everything he'd accomplished, he kind of felt like he was due for a rest.

But he wasn't going to die anytime soon, at least not if he had anything to do with it. After stretching out the early morning stiffness in his joints, the Alpha began to trot downhill to begin a patrol. En route, however, a voice howled for him. He felt a bolt of annoyance but he turned to answer the call. He arrived perhaps five minutes later, a little out of breath and his muscles twitching faintly with exertion as his broad paws carried him to a stop a few feet from Trick.

"What is it?" he wondered, his tone a little clipped even as he eyed the Eta. Whatever attraction he had felt upon the man's initiation had faded into nothingness. He couldn't decide whether or not he was disappointed by that. But it allowed him a little more objectivity as he leveled his dead-eyed gaze on the other wolf.