Redhawk Caldera there'll be peace when you are done.

They feel strong. He supposed that was good enough. Should he ever have children of his own, he would be relentless in ensuring they were worthy of being Redleaf-DiSarinnos. He'd been named a Redhawk long ago, but Nightjar never forgot that that name was only a mark of being a devoted pack member. His familial name had its own importance. He'd heard the stories of his extended family, of course, of his paternal grandmother and how she had made her own way and her own family. She had earned her name, as had every Redleaf-DiSarinno since, as far as he knew. His future children would earn it, too, or they would not live.

Killing Finley's children if they turned out like Elwood Junior wasn't an option, however, but then, the Blackthorns were not Redleaf-DiSarinnos. It truly wasn't any of his business, though he knew he would refuse to teach and train one that was a snivelling wreck like the first. "Three?" He hadn't met any of them thus far. He hadn't known of any new children. After the walking mistake that was Eljay, he was surprised she would even bother to try again. He certainly wouldn't have bred again if he produced such a disappointment, but Finley and Elwood were made of softer stuff than Nightjar was.

Lucky for everyone, truly, because Nightjar had a one-track mind that emphasized survival of the fittest. He cared deeply for his family and was a sweetheart when it came to them, most of the time, but he had little tolerance for weak wolves. It showed in his disdain for Eljay. He could only hope Finley was right about her newest batch of pups so he would have someone to teach without feeling they would be better off dead.