Redhawk Caldera Don't be afraid to catch feels

How many wolves had Nightjar killed? Zero prior to leaving the caldera, but he'd left a few bodies out in the wilderness following scuffles for food. Life was completely different when you didn't have a pack backing you up. He'd come close to dying a few times, too. He wondered if that was part of what had driven him closer to the Teekon Wilds and ultimately back home. Probably.

He didn't know what rabies was although she clarified that it was an illness, but much of what followed came off like gibberish to him. He wasn't the quickest thinker, after all, but even a more intelligent wolf might have tripped up on that one. "Bees?" he wondered. Bees could be pests, but he wasn't sure why Towhee would have assumed that bees would make a wolf sick. Life would have been pretty tragic for them if that was the case. She assured him that she didn't have rabies and he nodded, but hadn't even thought of it. He was still too busy wondering what bees had to do with it.

Nightjar came to a halt as Towhee did, but what she did next puzzled him completely. She'd grown up using her brand of sign language and the dexterity in her paws showed it. Nightjar had grown up merely walking on his paws. Even if he had seen everything she just did—and he hadn't—there was no way in hell he'd be able to mimic it. He tried, though. He lifted one paw and attempted to wiggle his toes, but they barely budged, and he frowned at them. "How can you even do that?"