Redhawk Caldera he's the one who likes all our pretty songs

She made no effort to right herself; she didn't have the strength. Wildfire closed her eyes, sure this was some sort of nightmare, though they opened again when someone nudged her. With a quiet hiss, she flinched away from the touch. Her ears fell back and she squinted at the perpetrator, only for her chestnut eyes to widen slightly when she realized this was no stranger. She didn't know him well—she couldn't recall his name, currently—but this wolf was from Drageda.

But she wasn't back home, a fact which Wildfire verified with a quick glance around herself. The knowledge of her location slammed into her and she found herself staring at the unfamiliar she-wolf. She was black with red and white markings. Nobody had to tell Wildfire that this was another of Peregrine's and Fox's progeny; she knew nearly instantly that this must be one of her younger sisters. She was at Redhawk Caldera.

Belatedly registering her cohort's question, she looked in weary amazement between him and her unknown relative. "I'm—" There was no way Wildfire could answer that question right now. She blinked, then said, "I'm not going back in that cave. I'm—I need to be in the open," she stammered, finally mustering the strength to sit upright and begin climbing to her feet, very ready to put as much space between herself and the loathsome cave as possible.

As she took one wobbly step, then another, she glanced between the two wolves and asked, "Remind me who you are? And how I got here?"