Redhawk Caldera a shadow tilts its head at me

Oblivious to her bittersweet timing, Raven slowed to a stop outside the caldera's borders, her yellow eyes drinking in the sight of the extinct volcano. She stood there and stared a long while, replaying memories which were by now very faded and frayed at the edges. Honestly, she could scarcely remember her days here (thank Fox's genetics for that). She could remember her feelings toward this place and those that lived here. These wolves were her family and it was time for her to come home.

Steadying herself with a deep breath, Raven tipped her head backward and let out a soft howl. "It's Raven. I'm back," she sang, wondering whose ears her message might reach first. Her father's? Her mother's? Her godparents'? Her brother's? Was everyone still here? More importantly, would they welcome her back? She knew she had done wrong by them by disappearing and not even sending word back when passing through Donnelaith. She bowed her head and lowered her tail, hoping they could forgive her.

Assuming this is midday Nov. 1st for timeline purposes.

A familiar voice finally roused Fox from her slumber, and she turned to check-in with Peregrine. It took a full five seconds before the dread set in and she remembered the events of the previous night. She felt like she could barely move, but that voice—it called to her. She knew that voice. Fox wasn't sure where Whip or Gannet had gone. Or anybody, for that matter. Her head felt foggy and like there was a dull thud each time her heart beat.

Stiff, sore, and ultimately wanting nothing more than to curl up and ignore the world for the rest of her life, Fox forced herself to overcome such silly notions. Just because Peregrine wasn't here didn't mean she was allowed to give up. She had to be strong in his absence. One step at a time, she made her way to the borders. Her eyes were bloodshot and her fur ragged, especially on her shoulders where Peregrine had given her a reminding mark.

Fox squinted at the figure that stood just a few feet in front of her before recognition finally overtook her expression and her eyes widened. "Raven?" she croaked. Their daughter could not have come at a more depressing time, but Fox felt somehow that she must have known what had happened. She wasn't superstitious in the least, but perhaps her daughter had felt her father's absence.

No one answered and Raven worried her bottom lip, biting back a sigh. Did this mean no one would come? Where would she go if they turned her away? She hadn't thought that far ahead. Luckily, she didn't have to start now, either, as a red figure materialized and came closer. The yearling squinted her yellow eyes, which widened when she recognized her mother and, in the same beat, saw how awful she looked.

"Mom?" Raven said quietly, then a slightly louder and more alarmed, "Mom!" burst from her mouth. Mindless of the borders, she crossed and zipped to Fox's side, her inner medic immediately pushing her into bedside manner mode. "Mom, what happened?" Even as she asked, she began gently nosing her mother all over, pausing when she came to the wound on her shoulder. Already she was trying to decide where she might locate the right remedies on such short notice at this time of year.

It took a second for Fox to snap out of it, but eventually she started to. Raven, ever the aspiring medic, began to tend to her wounds, and Fox shook her head. "Your dad, he—Peregrine's dead." It always felt so foreign on her tongue, no matter how many times she said it. Her answer, of course, did not explain her own wounds, nor was she about to tell her daughter that they'd been gotten because they were having rough sex (no matter how amusing it was).

"I'll be fine," she assured Raven, "It's not a deep or large cut. It just looks bad." Fox was certain that it would heal just like any other wound. "Perry, your dad, he died last night. In his sleep." She was not about to tell everybody that they'd been doing the dirty when he'd kicked the bucket. It would add a layer of humor to something she couldn't fully process yet.

There was the sound of a record screeching in Raven's head at the words, "Peregrine's dead." She blinked owlishly, forgetting all about Fox's wound and her intentions to help mend it. She took a step back, silently mouthing, What? She couldn't actually find her voice, especially when her mother downplayed the seriousness of her injuries and then dropped another bomb: Peregrine had only just died last night. She'd missed him by one day.

Her eyes felt misty, her heart heavy, as Raven struggled to process this news. In the end, she wasn't sure what to do with it, so she refocused on something she could manage: tending to her mother. If Fox didn't need her medical help, then the yearling could offer her comfort, consolation and support. "Mom... I'm so sorry. I'm here now," the young woman said meekly, gently nuzzling Fox's chin. "I'm so sorry," she repeated, voice thick with remorse for having missed out on her dad's last days, among other things, and for ever having left in the first place.

Fox was grateful for Raven's reappearance, and even more so for her comforting words. The Redhawk matriarch had never been excellent or in need of words from others, but right now, she could not think of anything that could be better. The mere thought of food made her feel sick to her stomach, and sleeping felt like the only escape from this hell she had been thrown into. First Peter, then Ferret, and now Peregrine. Perhaps Raven was repayment from some strange gods... not that Fox had ever believed in such a thing.

The mother sobbed, though no tears came (BECAUSE WOLVES CAN'T CRY). Instead, Fox's body simply heaved, convulsing quietly as she embraced her daughter as tightly as she could. How could she have done that to him? How could she have killed him? Why hadn't Fox known sooner?

Raven's heart broke when Fox began to sob (dryly!) against her. She settled on her haunches beside the Alpha female, lifting a foreleg to wrap around her shoulders and snuggling close against her. She didn't say anything. First of all, she wasn't sure what more to say. Second of all, she figured Fox wouldn't want any silly platitudes right now. Raven would just be there for her grieving mom.

Only after sitting there in silence and holding Fox for several moments did Raven become aware of a strange smell. Her mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. Her mother was in heat. Instinctively, the yearling scanned their surroundings to make sure nobody was approaching to take advantage of Fox's vulnerability. She then huddled closer to Fox, wondering if her parents had managed to couple before her father's untimely death but too afraid to ask at the moment.

When Fox's (dry!) weeping settled somewhat, Raven finally spoke. "I'd like to stay here, if you'll have me back." I want to be here for you, her bright, wet eyes added for her as she looked imploringly into her mother's sad face.

Raven comforted her, and Fox allowed herself to feel vulnerable. Perhaps she would have reacted differently, had it not been for the hormones. Maybe she would have been her usual cold self, but this time was different. Her whole body ached for Peregrine (in more ways than one). She wanted him back to comfort her and tell her things would shake-out okay. But he wasn't here. He was gone, dead, buried. The widow managed to collect herself a bit, and Raven asked a question that didn't even take Fox a second to answer.

"Of course," Fox replied, pressing herself into Raven. "You have brothers here. Two of them." She didn't bother explaining why three of them weren't here. She could explain the specifics later. Fox still hadn't heard a peep from Jackrabbit, and while Ferret still seemed to be lingering somewhere nearby, Fox hadn't actually seen him since they'd chased him off. And Peter... poor Peter. Fox held back another sobbing fit, trying to compose herself.

"Let's get away from the borders," Fox suggested, "And I—you can clean my shoulder when we get to the rendezvous site." It was something she had always reserved for Peregrine, but Fox found comfort in Raven's presence. She was glad to have her daughter back, and there was so much more to tell her.

There was good news buried among all the misery and heartache: she had two new brothers. Raven gave Fox a watery smile and another gentle nuzzle for good measure. She wondered about them but refrained from asking any questions for the moment. Now that she was welcome back, there would plenty of time to meet and get to know them later, not to mention catch up on the other relatives she had accidentally left behind the better part of a year ago. Right now, Fox was her one and only focus.

The mention of the rendezvous site caused a nostalgic feeling to stir in the pit of Raven's belly. She wondered about the old badger den and the little garden beside it. Were they still there? It was another thing she would find out later. "Okay," she replied quietly to her mother's invitation. "Thank-you," she added as they slowly began the upward shuffle, "for letting me back. I didn't mean to disappear like that. I went looking for Pan and... well, let's just say I found out I'm very directionally challenged. I don't know how Wildfire does it." It had taken her eight months just to find her way back here.

None of it—why she'd left, where she'd been all this time—mattered one bit now. She was home with her family. "Would you like me to make a poultice? What about pain medicine?" Raven queried softly as they ascended the caldera.

Maybe Fox should have been suspicious of Raven, considering that the last time a black child of Peregrine's had been here, she'd tried to murder one of her children. But this was sweet, caring Raven. And she wasn't a product of some flaky mother. She was the product of Peregrine and Fox Redhawk: the greatest duo the Teekon Wilds had ever seen.

Raven explained her disappearance, comparing herself to the ever-adventurous Wildfire, but Fox couldn't muster up a reply worthy of words. Why or how Raven had been gone so long didn't really matter at this point. She was back at Redhawk Caldera, where she belonged (in Fox's mind, anyway).

The ever-thoughtful medic offered to make her a poultice, a word that Fox still didn't believe was weird, but the second question reminded her of the old wolf who had once lived here and given her some killer plants that had made her brain cloudy and giggly. "There was some plant that grows around here..." Fox explained poorly, "Remember that rabbit fur that you had in the den growing up? The guy who gave you that also knew this plant that would put me out for half a day. I ate it a lot when I fell down the mountain." At least, that's how she remembered it.

She didn't remember said rabbit pelt, nor the wolf who had evidently given it to her, yet Raven nodded mutely. She couldn't be entirely sure what drug this stranger had given her mother, yet the yearling knew of several possibilities. It was pretty late in the year for harvesting supplies but she was pretty sure she could find something for Fox to take. Something that would knock her out would be ideal, so that she could get some rest and escape from the day's trauma.

"I'll get you something that takes the edge off and puts you to sleep," she murmured consolingly, walking close enough to the slightly smaller Fox that their shoulders and hips occasionally brushed. Raven wanted her mother to know she was there for her, physically, medically and otherwise. "And maybe something else to fight off infection, instead of a poultice," she thought aloud, speaking more to herself than to Fox.

It wasn't long before they approached the sprawling field that served as the pack's rendezvous site. Raven felt a dull sense of nostalgia as her yellow eyes swept over it, though she quickly returned her attention to the Alpha female. "Lay down wherever's most comfortable. I'll clean this," she said, eyeing the cuts on Fox's shoulder, "then fetch the stuff I mentioned while you get some rest."

They continued upward toward the rendezvous site, and Raven explained what she planned to do. Most of it went right over Fox's head (quite literally, considering Raven was taller). In time, they arrived at their destination, and Fox found a small patch of grass that had somehow managed not to die off yet. She did as instructed, easing herself down on the ground while her daughter ran off to fetch things.

It only took a total of 26.83 seconds for Fox's snores to fill the surrounding air. Passed out, the world seemed a little bit easier to deal with.

Raven only left her mother somewhat reluctantly, promising to return soon with something to help. It turned out that she needn't have rushed nor worried so much, as by the time she reappeared the rendezvous site, Fox was deeply asleep. The yearling smiled down at her mother, glad she had found some respite.

Setting aside the items she had gathered, Raven circled three times and then dropped down beside her mother, curled slightly toward Fox's warmth. She wouldn't sleep herself, just keep vigil and administer the medication once the Alpha woke.