Redhawk Caldera roses are yuge, violets are bigly

Gently, Raven set the dried flowers on the earth that covered her father's body. They were likely to blow away with the next crisp breeze, yet she wasn't worried about it. It was the sentiment that mattered, really, and since she had no medical use for these shriveled blossoms, it seemed fitting to leave them here in remembrance. With a gentle sigh, she then reposed on her slim black haunches and just stared at the soil. No grass had grown over the grave site on account of the season, so the patch of dirt sort of stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Miss you, dud," the young Gamma murmured, striking out a forelimb and pressing her paw over his resting place, leaning her weight into it to leave behind a perfect imprint.

Whip liked to stay close to his father's grave. For some reason, unbeknownst to Whip, it gave him comfort to linger near the loosely packed plot earth that covered Peregrine's corpse. He liked to think that his dad was still with him -- and truthfully, he was. He was a short distance away, rotting a few feet under the ground. And Whip would stay on guard like a silent sentinel, protecting his father's memory in any way that he could.

When he heard a noise near the grave, Whip stirred from where he lay. A short distance away, he found Raven standing over the grave. Whip then looked down and saw her offering of flowers. "Those are nice," he said. "I think -- I think he would have liked them."

She turned her head when she heard footfalls approaching, favoring her younger brother with a fond smile. "Hey, Whip." Her eyes crinkled at the corners in response to his remark. "You think so?" she asked rhetorically, turning back around to peer down at the shriveled flowers. "I feel like he would have eaten them or stomped on them or something," Raven mused, huffing a quiet laugh.

"You should add yours," she said in the next breath, motioning to the paw print she had left.

Of course, Whip knew Dad wasn't really one for flowers. But, the sentiment behind the offering -- that was something powerful. There was no greater beauty than loneliness and loss to Whip. It was such a pure, primal emotion. Yet, beautiful as it was, these troubled feelings carried the sting of a double edged sword. He tried to smile when his older sister attempted to lighten the mood, he really did. But, he couldn't.

"Yeah, but that's how you'd know," Whip said with a shrug. After all, some folks ate the things they liked. "That's just his way." Whip found it easier to refer to his father in the present tense as if he hadn't left. It was like pretend, and he could finally understand why Eljay couldn't let go of Peter when he had passed.

His attention was then directed to a paw print in the lose soil. Whip nodded and muttered, "Okay," as he slowly, carefully, pressed his own paw print into the soil next to his sister's.

Her yellow eyes carefully tracked Whip's movements as he copied her, leaving a paw print in the cold earth over their father's body. His was larger than hers and, not for the first time, she was reminded of Nightjar. She wondered where he was and what he was doing. Would she ever see him again?

Pushing thoughts of her litter mate aside, the yearling queried, "How're you holding up, Whip?"

He shook his head. That sort of question had no easy answer. At least, that was so in Whip's experiance. He found emotion not only difficult to articulate, but it was also difficult to inwardly interpret what he was feeling at any given moment. He bounced from one extreme to another. From intense anger to chilly sorrow, there was no healthy medium. Sometimes, he felt nothing at all. Like he wasn't even a wolf, but some sort of bug or some other lower life-form.

 "I— I don't know," he anwered. "Sometimes I feel hollow, or something." The boy shrugged. "I don't know what to feel, but I havn't felt right for a while." In fact, he had never felt right. His gaze sought his sisters face. In his eyes was a silent plea. Can you help me?

While it was true that Raven was much more savvy with physical maladies than mental or emotional ones, she listened and nodded in sympathy. The symptoms Whip described were not unusual for someone in mourning. She thought momentarily of Eljay's struggles. Somehow, she had never gotten around to offering him the poppies. It didn't matter much now, since Finley was back. But the wolf Whip missed would never come back, so perhaps he would benefit from some of the crumbled red dust Raven kept in her stash.

In response to the silent plea in her little brother's eyes, the yearling said, "I think I have something that can help you. Follow me." Raven gave Peregrine's grave site a parting glance, then turned and began leading the way to the rendezvous site and the badger den where she kept her medical inventory.

While Whip wasn't necessarily sure what exactly his sister had in store for him, he could see some level of certainty written across her face. Somehow, she knew what to do. He trusted her, and her professional judgement, with all of his being. She couldn't lead him into harm, as that would be entirely agaisnt her kind and nurturing nature. So, when he was beckoned, Whip trailed behind his sister in direction of the rendezvous site and left the grave of his father, and hopefully this looming spell of sadness, behind him.

As they walked, Whip wondered what his sister had planned. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked. It would take nothing short of a small miricle to fix him, he thought. Of course, Whip was willing to let his sister try anything, but there was a nagging suspicion that led him to belive that the broken thing he had become was incapable of being anything else.

"Do to you?" she repeated, a little amused by Whip's choice of words. "I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm going to offer you something and you can take it or leave it. It's entirely up to you." Even as the words left her mouth, they arrived just outside the badger den. Rather than immediately duck inside, she finished what she was saying. "I've crumbled up some poppies. If you ingest the powder, it really lifts the mood. I think you should give it a try, though as I said, it's your call."

She gave him a little smile, then disappeared into the small burrow for a moment. When she withdrew, she was holding a leaf gently with her lips. She had licked it and pressed it to a dose of the poppy dust and the little red granules were visible against the sheaf of brown. Raven set it down at Whip's feet, yellow eyes tracing absently over the scars on his forelegs before she straightened up again and waited to see what he would do.

She led him to the nearby badger den. They stopped outside and Raven alowed a brief moment to explain what exactly she was about to do. Whip didn't really know better, anyway. His medical knowledge was nill, but he trusted his sister enough to think she knew what she was doing. He nodded his head, consenting to her plan before she dissapeared into the darkness of the den. She was not gone long, and soon returned with a light dusting of red.

Whip eyed the leaf curiously. "I lick it right?" he asked, unsure. Without waiting for an answer, Whip ran his tongue across the surface, tasteless granules collecting on his tongue. It was strange, he didn't feel anything yet, which left him with another question. "How long do I have to wait for it to work?"

She nodded, though Whip hardly looked at her before swiping the leaf with his tongue. Raven smiled, pleased that he trusted her and was willing to give this method a whirl. He straightened up a moment later with another question and she motioned for him to take a seat, make himself comfortable.

"It'll kick in in about fifteen minutes," she explained. "You'll know," she added in case Whip wasn't sure of how to tell. "And I'll be right here," she added. She didn't anticipate a bad reaction but, just in case, Raven wasn't going anywhere. She would hang out here with Whip for as long as he wanted and needed.

After his sister's prompting, Whip settled comfortably along the ground with limbs splayed forward. If Raven was right, which he trusted she was, he'd have to wait to feel an effect, so he figured it was best to settle in. "Okay," he replied with an acompanying nod of his head. The effect must have been strong for her to meantion the transition, he inferred. The more he dwelled on it, the more curious he became. He feared the unknown, and this red dust was taking him into unfamiliar territory. A small part of him was fearful, but having his sister remain close helped dispel some of those fears.

Despite the questions that he was brewing, Whip fell silent in wait. The minutes passed slowly, but when they did, Whip began to feel a creeping sensation travel through his extemeties. It was so warm. Like he was slowly being enveloped in a thick, woolen blanket. "Ohh," he marvled aloud as he rolled onto his side. His breathing slowed; each breath was long and deep. The lids of his eyes grew heavy and they began to fall until he could only view his sister from barely open slits.

"Ohhhhhhhh." The effects of the magic dust Raven had administered continued to build. This time, his voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Where will you be, Raven mused, when the drugs hit? She smiled quietly to herself, watching Whip carefully as he began to react. His breathing slowed, deepened. She saw his pupils constrict but his eyelids quickly drooped. These were just the physical effects. The caregiver wondered about the mental and emotional impacts it was having.

"How do you feel?" Raven queried in between Whip's moans. When he seemed incapable of articulating a response and just kept making funny noises, she fought against the spreading grin on her face. He didn't seem to be struggling with any negative side effects at all. "Good," she said simply, pleased to provide her younger brother with this respite, however temporary, from his troubles. Once he came down, she would show him how to dose himself responsibly. In the meantime, she settled in to keep an eye on him.