Redhawk Caldera Fighting a giant goldfish at the South Pole

Although his neck was still pulled back awkwardly to keep his muzzle rested as close to his throat as possible, as if to ward off invisible attackers, he began to relax just a little in Finley's presence. His ears slammed forward expectantly, and when she didn't reply, his tail began to wriggle pleadingly, but it was the sound of footsteps that stirred him to further motion: he tucked his paws in close to his body and bowed his head, even though his nose told him it was only Raven. He couldn't see her, just as he couldn't see Finley but for the faintest ring in his periphery, and fixed his mostly blind stare on somewhere to her left.

Something about being seen in such a vulnerable state, especially by his litter mate, filled Nightjar with anxiety. He had always been the strong one, physically and emotionally (so he told himself, anyway). It felt wrong in every way to not be strong. He parted his jaws and panted heavily, exhausting as much of his panic as he could with each breath to keep it from mounting in his chest and turning into something ugly. It was a saving grace that both of his family members kept his mind from wandering in that moment, else he might have lost it completely.

Nightjar didn't realize it when his panting breath began to come out in soft whines, even as he stretched his neck in Raven's general direction and wriggled his nose at her in a wordless plea: help me, please!