Redhawk Caldera No, I don't have a harp.

With little left to do but hang around and chat some more, Nightjar flopped down onto his side and stretched his legs in the summer grass with a thump of his tail. It was a nice day like many of the days before, and if not for his glum outlook on the new batch of Blackthorn kids and their worth, he would have considered Redhawk Caldera to be beyond blessed. A good summer was enough reason to be pleased, though. The pack looked to be in a good state going into summer's end and he was thankful for it. It meant that whether or not Finley's third attempt at raising decent wolves was successful, the pack would only grow stronger.

Speaking of which, Towhee suddenly announced that she was planning to become a leader. He glanced sidelong at her from his position on the ground. It wasn't surprising and actually made a lot of sense. Redhawk Caldera belonged to the blood of Peregrine and Fox as far as he was concerned. Sure, he respected Finley and Elwood and would contest almost anyone who came against them, but if it was one of his own blood striving for their position, then there was no doubt whatsoever where Nightjar's support would fall, so long as the one gunning for it wasn't himself.

"Why not Alpha?" he had to ask. The answer was probably obvious, but he didn't really look at Towhee and think anything of her disability. She'd proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was more than capable in spite of it, and it truly would have been a shame had Fox lived long enough to kill her.