Redhawk Caldera if i die young

Jaws reflected Peregrine's smile, relieved that the topic of death had now more or less been replaced by a more lively discussion. The coywolf felt his uneasiness ebb away, replaced with a familiar comfort in Peregrine's company; he had been able to relate to the dark Alpha in a way that he had not been duplicated with anyone else, not before or since.

"I like that - calling them after birds," Jaws commented, genuinely intrigued by the time-honored naming conventions. For someone who held a lot of respect for other creatures - he did, after all, owe his survival to their varied intelligence and strategies - the practice of honoring them (as he saw it) by name not only made sense but was rather charming too.

Jaws obliged when Peregrine invited him to follow, gesturing with his muzzle to the trees where the grayjay followed along. "Just over there," he said. "I haven't been seeing much of him until this morning when he helped himself to some fur off my backside," Jaws shook his head before craning his neck to glance at his rump, but was pleased that his impromptu inspection found no glaring evidence of the bird's theft. "At least he didn't leave me bald."