Redhawk Caldera Call the police

Lagan really did love his home.

For some reason the Blackthorn's mind kept going back to his conversation with Gannet, and how the older boy had asked if he was leaving. Lagan hadn't even taken a moment to contemplate, he already knew the answer; nope! First off he saw what Liffey leaving had done to mommy and the rest of the family, and he wasn't about to put them through it. Second, no place he'd ever gone had been as perfect as the Caldera. It seemed they had everything they'd ever need there. Plus he loved the wolves here more than anything else, and would be more than happy to chillax with them until his dying day.

He didn't think he would ever change his mind about that. He figured the only thing that could make him move was if he found someone he loved a whole darn lot, or if his family moved with him. Otherwise, this would be his home. He pondered all of this as he followed two familiar scent trails, one of which was that of a ruminant, the other, Phox. He soon caught up to the other boy, and the small dark male seemed to be equally lost in thought.

Lagan fell into step beside him, one small soft boy next to a smaller soft boy. Sup Phoxie, what're you doing? He asked, looking down at his younger cousin (who he sometimes still referred to as his nephew).