Redhawk Caldera night and the spirit of life

This would be set around the 2nd. :')

Wakefulness crept up on her slowly. When Raven roused and pushed herself upright, she squinted against the sunrise and found herself gazing over the foggy lake in the distance. A mild breeze tousled the soft fur of her nape as she shut her eyes and bent her head up toward the morning rays. After basking for a moment, her head dropped, chin tucking against her chest as she stared down at the churned earth beneath her. She had come here last night to pay her respects and had fallen asleep on the fresh grave.

"Dud..." she said quietly. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. She wanted to apologize for disappearing and tell him how sorry she was for being so distant for such a large part of her childhood. She realized now he had not been acting monstrously that day he had dealt with Junior. He had been nothing more than a protective papa bear. She had been wrong to fear and stay away from him. Raven did take some comfort knowing they had closed that distance somewhat prior to her disappearing act, yet still... there was so much she still wanted to tell him. Now she would never get that chance.

Taking a deep breath, the Theta stood. She couldn't linger here forever, mourning and regretful. She needed to reacquaint with the territory and its inhabitants, get settled back into the flow of life here at the caldera. And it would go on even without its patriarch, Raven knew. It would be a rocky road, especially at first, and in that sense, she had impeccable timing. She began to walk on soft black paws, eager to seek out her loved ones and let them know she was here for them.

It had been a long, terrible and sleepless night. The first of many without his father. Whip was handling the loss as well as he could. This time, his grief did not compel him to harm himself, nor did it give him the inclination to lash out at those around him. He just felt heavy. Like a stone, he could not move from his spot near, but out of sight, from the mound of loosely packed dirt that covered Peregrine's grave. Mostly, Whip spent his time in silence. Though when he was finally alone, Whip would talk to his father despite knowing that he would not hear him on the other side.

He stayed close to his father's grave well into the morning. The tell tale rumbles of hunger waged war in Whip's stomach, so he rose slowly on to wobbly limbs. He needed to pass by the actual grave to get to the cache, but Whip could hardly bear to see it with his own eyes. With a deep breath to prepare himself, Whip began making his way the cache in a slow, somber funeral march.

On his way he saw a stranger. Whip stopped to rub the crust from his eyes and soon that they weren't playing tricks on him. She looked so much like Peregrine. Had he returned by sheer force of will? But, she just wasn't him. Whip found this frustrating. "Who're you," he asked hoarsely after a beat.

It wasn't long before she crossed paths with someone, someone who was a sight for sore eyes. "NJ!" Raven breathed even as her brother asked, "Who're you?" The yearling's brow furrowed in confusion. Had her litter mate forgotten her? Swallowing, she inched closer, yellow eyes squinted. Only when his scent filled her nose did she realize it wasn't quite right. This wasn't Nightjar. Now everything made sense, though the resemblance was downright uncanny.

"My name is Raven," the Theta introduced, managing a smile for the wolf who must be one of her younger brothers. "I think I'm your older sister. I just returned and I haven't gotten the full update yet," the yearling explained apologetically.

Whip scrunched his brow as his sister mistook him for someone else. Shortly after the boy's initial confusion, Whip remembered his father talking about Nightjar; the brother he resembled, yet never met. When Raven then introduced herself Whip realized why she favored his father. She was his sister. Family. Knowing this, Whip allowed himself to relax a bit more in Raven's presence. 

"I, uh -- I'm Whip," he muttered tiredly. His gaze soon found his sister's face and the boy couldn't help but blurt, "You look so much like Dad." He winced and verbally stumbled to catch himself. "I mean, you don't look like a guy or anything. It's just, you know?"

She saw him visibly relax when she gave her name and she was glad for it. Her tail stirred lightly as he introduced himself in turn. His name didn't seem to follow the typical convention, though that wasn't entirely unheard of. Before Raven could think long on it, Whip pointed out her resemblance to Peregrine. The yearling's heart sank a little in her chest at the reminder of their mutual loss. She knew it would have hit him a lot harder too.

"I know what you mean," she gently reassured, "and I'm sorry if it's a painful reminder." She paused, lips pursing, then said, "I know you don't know me but, well, if you want to talk about what happened, I'm here to listen or help in any other way I can. That's what big sisters are for, right?" she quipped with a bit of a watery smile, then felt the need to add, "I'm sorry I missed out on so much. I never meant to go away. But," she continued with a deep breath, "I'm here now."

Having the spitting image of Dad around was a bittersweet reminder. Of course, it was painful for Whip to see his late father in the face of his sister. Yet, there was a part of Whip that was grateful for her presence. Time had taken the memory of Peter's appearance, leaving a hole in Whip's memory. Without a present reminder, Whip could not recall the details of his brother's face. All that remained was dull, vague feeling of loss when he tried to remember the brother that he had lost. With Raven around, Whip knew he would never forget his father.

It was comforting to know that Raven was around to listen, but Whip wasn't ready to talk just yet. There was too much chaos inside to sort out before he could even begin to coherently collect his feelings. So for now Whip offered a thin, pain-tempered smile and remained silent.

When Raven began to apologize, Whip interjected in the hopes that she would shelve her apologies. "It's okay," he offered. "Everybody leaves sometimes." In his experience, it was usually never by choice: Peter, Peregrine, and even Ferret. But unlike Raven, none of them could ever come back.

Whip's assurance meant a lot to Raven, even though his words hung heavily on her conscience. She supposed it was true enough; many wolves did come and go throughout a lifetime, voluntarily and otherwise. It was still a tough reality to hear from the tongue of someone so young. He had clearly been through a lot despite his age, a fact which made her swallow thickly.

Her eyes dropped and, for the first time, she noticed the scars on his legs. Without realizing what she was doing, Raven inched closer to squint at them. She then glanced up at Whip's face and asked, "What happened there?" She didn't for one second consider that they might be self-inflicted. It looked like he had been attacked, which made her insides twist. She swallowed again, only now it was more of a melancholic gulp.

Whip was not a liar in the typical sense. He did not spin untruths, yet he was guilty of withholding information when it suited him. When his sister's attention drifted to the healing flesh of his forelimbs, Whip could not skirt around the the topic with his usual silence. He needed to provide some sort of answer, preferably untrue, but he did not offer an answer quickly. He looked down to his legs -- this constant reminder of the sharp pain of loneliness. A stiff, awkward silence followed.

"Badger," he lied awkwardly. Whip visibly winced from how bad a lie it was. He bit his lip and fell back into silence with the hope that his sister wouldn't pick up on his trail of bullshit.

With no reason to suspect otherwise, Raven accepted his answer as truth. There wasn't even a second's doubt in her mind. She winced sympathetically, picturing a badger's claws. At least it hadn't been another wolf, which was what she had thought at first. She felt a measure of relief, though she wouldn't downplay the seriousness of an encounter with something as fiercely stubborn and dangerous as a badger.

"They look like they've healed all right," she couldn't help but observe. "Do they cause you any pain? Do the scars bother you? I might be able to help," Raven said. She didn't know of any herb or other plant that would heal scars completely, though a moisturizing salve of some sort might soothe and fade them somewhat.

The lie, despite its delivery, was completely palatable. Badgers were savage little beasts and could easily cause havok, especially for a youngster like Whip had been. He wished he could believe the story himself, but unfortunatley, the night he tore into his own flesh as an act of frustration was permanantly etched into his memory. At the time, he believed that night to have been one of triumph. He had garnered the attention of father as well as his mother's rage, but that was okay. It had been worth it. Now, with Peregrine nothing more than a memory, Whip felt he had done it for nothing.

When he looked down to his scarred limbs, he felt nothing but shame. "No. They're fine," he lied. "I'm fine." His ears fell weakly back against his head. He was a poor liar, but he wasn't quite ready to let his sister in. "I should— I should probably go," he muttered. With eyes downcast, Whip turned and left before he had to lie to his sister again.

As Whip shut down the conversation and walked away, Raven yearned to go after him. Yet she didn't want to infringe on his space if that's what he needed. Perhaps one day, they would become closer and she could push him a little, get him to talk when it was so evident that something was amiss. But she didn't dare bother him just now.

Frowning as he disappeared into the distance, Raven looked down at her own petite paws, contemplating. She then moved in the opposite direction, heading toward the territory's outskirts to search for some supplies. Whip had insisted he was fine and that might even be true. Yet she would find what she could and get that salve started, just in case. And when the timing was more right, she would ask him if she could help him mend the scars both seen and unseen.