Of what does a raptor dream? Trailing a flick of light in shadows? Warm blood? The scent of fear? A strong Alpha? Even after studying hours of grainy night-vision tapes, Owen doesn't know what Blue – or the pack – dreams of when they close their intelligent eyes. A silent snarl, a slash of claws is all he has to work with, but it is enough to tell him they do dream. Anything else is ridiculous, even belittling, of his precious pack.
It doesn't matter what they dream of at night; what matters is what they do in daylight as a team.