Redhawk Caldera Indy, the torch is going out!

On the heels of his last rendevous with Peregrine where the Alpha informed him of the state of his hide should he father any bastard pups, Jaws had decided to seek Dove again. Mostly, because he was curious to know if she knew if she was pregnant yet or not, certainly not because he welcomed speaking to her again after their last tense encounter. No doubt, she would have more brazen words and attitude for him again this time and the coywolf almost turned back to his den at thought of it. He really, truly, did not care for conflict of any description.

Picking up her trail, Jaws tracked in the manner of a bloodhound, with his nose hovering just above the surface of the ground. He picked his head up occasionally to scent the air around him, but the breeze was against his back and did little to aid his search. Fortunately, a piercing scream helped him to zero in on her quicker, and the coywolf responded by hastening his pace to a run, not knowing if his packmate was in trouble. It did cross his self-preserving mind that it might be better to leave her alone in hope she disappear and never return, but that spark was extinguished by his packwolf instincts, which were becoming more profound.

Jaws skidded to a stop just behind Dove, finding her standing unharmed but dirty, staring down at a pile of rocks. "What are you yelling for?" he asked as he stepped around her, furrowing his brows as his bi-colored gaze came to rest on the macabre portrait in the stone. "I see. Well it's dead. It's not going to bite you."