Redhawk Caldera give my regards to the reaper

The stench of death reached his nostrils long before he laid eyes on Dove's wasted corpse. He let Fox walk slightly ahead of him, though he padded along right behind her as they approached the den's mouth and took a peek inside. She looked like a shadow of her former self, her fur dull and flat rather than fluffy as freshly fallen snow. Peregrine sighed, then glanced at his mate. She seemed perturbed by her sister's demise, though not particularly emotional. Nonetheless, he reached out to touch her cheek with his nose.

"Maybe she preferred to slip away in peace," he murmured. He licked his lips, then nodded. "We should. I'm sure the others will want to pay their respects. Do you want to bury her?" It was traditional, in his mind, to bury the dead. It kept predators away from the body and it always best to have a few inches (or feet) of dirt between a rotting corpse and the living world, morbid as it sounded.