Hushed Willows we'll create an empire for you.

Hope you don't mind ~

She couldn't find him. Whoever had been watching her little boy while she had been out with Stark — whether it was Trick, or Grace, or even Captain — it didn't matter. He wasn't here. The Crook wasn't empty but when Octavia returned from her trip to meet Banner, as she marched her way through the dark and in to the hollow space where the pups had all been congregated, she had counted those wriggling bodies and seen that one wasn't where it was supposed to be. He wasn't here. How was it possible that her beloved Tambourine had gotten out? Octavia was in a panic within moments; she looked in every nook, every cranny, and grew persistently more furious with her terror, until finally she was vaulting herself out of the Crook with all the manners of a mental patient.

Tambourine?! She called out — looking at each face as she passed them, eyeing the adults, scrutinizing every inch of every  body for clues — her voice carried through the trees. TAMBOURINE? Has anyone seen him?! How incompetent were these wolves? Were they truly against her? This only fueled her sense of paranoia. The thought that someone had uprooted her baby boy and taken him away — it stung deep, burned in her blood and Octavia, filled with such a state of bizarre and intense rage, roamed messily across the terrain and between the trees until —

She could hear a voice, but it was distant. The words were slurred together. Not that they mattered, she cared little for who was talking or why, only that her son must be close. As she neared, Octavia heard the familiar whines and murmurs of Tambourine — then a thin breeze told her more. There was blood, at at that point Octavia snapped. She charged ahead and through the foliage, destroying everything in her path as she lunged for her baby boy, only to be met with the sight of Harlyn; the bloodied cliff above was noticed but hardly so. In her state of confusion and panic, Octavia's only reaction was more rage, and thus she slammed herself against the other woman, forcing her away from the little one without further consideration for the situation. Nothing mattered except for Tambourine.

Nothing.