Ravensblood Forest Oh no! Where are they?

The newest member of Donnelaith had been correct when he spoke of the devastation encompassing the Wilds. Constantine had believed him – and yet witnessing the absence of life in the spring was something unworldly. Something to be feared.
 
Emaleth was home now, thankfully, and the wolf had skirted along the shores of the ocean in hopes of finding stray crabs. The birds had a similar idea, despite their easy pickings of the dead locusts that had been left behind.
 
A desperate howl echoed across the ocean, and for a moment, Constantine’s eyes darted upward to study the calm waters – he had heard stories of sirens within the darker waters of the sea, and for a moment, could only wonder if the myth had become a reality for Teekon Wilds – it would be no more unbelievable to the yearling than a swarm of locusts devouring the entirety of mother nature.
 
Yet the cry echoed from the forest along the base of the mountains, and pausing for only a second, Constantine began to lope toward the direction of the woods, uncertain if the devastated plea was worth investigating. “Hello?” His voice called tentatively in to the wooded area – he assumed the forest would have been darker, had the canopy of leaves not been stripped bare. He saw no sight of the ‘siren’ yet, and determined if he could not find the caller within a few moments, his search for anything edible would continue instead.