Redhawk Caldera we're the new face of failure.

Peregrine looked at Finley with absolute disgust written on his face. "Oh hell no. We can't have that. It's bleu cheese or nothing," he retorted, lifting a paw to playfully punch her in the shoulder. "How could you desecrate perfectly good buffalo wings with something as nasty as ranch, Fin? I'm disappointed in your classless tastes. Next thing I know, you'll be telling me you prefer mild to medium..." He glared at her suspiciously.

He dropped the playful act in the next moment, his eyes setting forward in the direction of the herd of buffalo. Could the two of them have a chance? He glanced back at Finley, ascertaining her healing injuries. "You sure you up for this? Maybe we should hunt something slightly less huge, like... I don't know... ducks?"