Redhawk Caldera kavlunak

Phox's own feet came to a skidding stop just before the ledge, watching as the white wolf tumbled closer to what Phox hoped would be death. The trespasser was not yet dead or gone, and the vibrations in Phox's throat were anything but friendly or welcoming. His ears slicked back against his skull while the stranger teetered on the edge. The smell of blood hit his nose, and Phox's lips curled upward.

This was his last warning before Phox would make sure he never saw the light of day again.