Redhawk Caldera what is dead may never die

The decimated Caldera left something to be desired, and Panther's heart yearned for the green, for the beauty spring had given and the life summer had promised. He had traveled for miles into the surrounding territories, but had only found much of the same beyond the borders, so had returned with a heaviness set to his gait that reflected his stormy mood. The smoky wraith padded— or rather crunched— across the threshold of his new home, stepping over thousands of dead bodies, mere shells of their former destruction. He marveled at how such small creatures, in their multitudes, could leave a once beautiful land in such pure waste.

Suddenly, from the corpses jumped a mouse, and reflex sent the athletic male jerking after the morsel in a motion like whiplash. He skidded across the earth turned massive grave, and he trained his blue eyes for the small target that dodged in and out of his sight. The shifting of the insect husks seemed to make it easier to keep track of his quarry, but in the flow of things it was difficult to pick up brown fur from the browned bodies. Panther made one final, cat-like lunge, and came up with a mouthful of dead grasshoppers, but also victoriously with the mouse clipped between his fangs.