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

"Hm," Nightjar grunted, and turned his gaze expectantly back to the den when Towhee did. But nobody was emerging and nobody else had come by, so he returned to his reclined posture and sighed heavily. Towhee made a number of good points in the next minutes, and Nightjar had to concede that he was more likely to listen to her as a Beta than as an Alpha, even though they shared blood. Her plan was wise from any standpoint, but from his, she was a bit too young to be the big boss anytime soon. "You'd make a good Beta," he said, and left it at that.

As for Finley and Elwood ruling for years, he could make no comment on it. Part of him certainly agreed, but if their latest batch of children turned out how he thought they would, Nightjar was already of a private mind to usurp the position himself. He believed in the two leading Blackthorns without a doubt and followed them loyally for now, but he didn't believe in giving the pack's resources to dud children no matter who they came from, so this litter would be his deciding factor. Should they turn out the same as the others, then Nightjar thought he would ensure that next year's litter would be worth something to the pack by ensuring they were not Blackthorns.

There were a number of reasons he would fail in this potential endeavour, not least of all being Towhee's loyalty to her foster parents or the fact that being a Blackthorn offspring had nothing to do with usefulness, so he didn't say a word about it to her. In fact, all he said as he rolled himself back to his feet was, "I'll go check the borders again," before reaching out to offer Towhee a nudge to her face. Whatever happened in the future, he lived for his blood family's continued survival. Licking his chops, he retreated back into the woods and began to head downhill to where the borders began.