Redsand Canyon When will the bass drop?

Well, he knew she was attentive. He knew that! But, uh, yeah. Nah. . .not. . .really, Killdeer began, internally cursing himself with each pause. I wanna learn to fight. To be a soldier, like the ones you've got here. I—

Here came another wolf, big and gray and imposing. He was not so much a creature as a rock—a living, breathing, rock—and Killdeer tried not to shrink too low in his presence, weighing deference with cowardice and hoping he came out with the right balance.

Hi, I'm Killdeer—Towhee's grandson, he re-introduced himself. I was just telling this guy— crap, did he say his name? —how I want to learn to be a soldier, so I'm here. Can I join?

His inexperience with, well, everything, showed. He knew no formal border protocols, nor etiquette beyond the barest lupine nature. He only knew to keep his head down, be good, and cross his non-existent fingers that this big ol' rock would take a chance on a greenhorn like him.