Redhawk Caldera cape of good hope

With the famine digging its fangs deeper and deeper into the caldera's throat, Raven wondered how much more they could take before their collective jugular was cut and the whole pack fell apart. They had already lost a few members, which was troubling enough as it was. But even more troubling were the rumors she had heard that Towhee had considered leaving too. Raven had never been one to stick her nose into her siblings' affairs -- once the kids had grown old enough to more or less take care of themselves, she had backed off quite a bit and let them have their space to learn and explore and become their own individuals. But this, if it was true, bothered her. If Towhee left, how could she take care of herself? She knew that the girl was more than capable of making it on her own, but the problem was that she wouldn't always be on her own. There were other wolves out there -- a lot of them -- and not all of them would be sympathetic toward her hearing impairment.

Such things roiled around in the healer's mind as she padded toward the alphas' den. She'd intended to ask Aunt Flea or Uncle El if they'd heard anything about it, but as she approached, she was distracted by one of the Blackthorn babies wrestling with a rather large stick. The child was so cute that Raven almost immediately forgot her reason for coming here, and she promptly dropped down into a sphinx-like position near the little girl, grinning and wagging her tail behind her. She wanted to help, but she knew how puppies were -- most of the time, they preferred to try something themselves before asking for help.