Redhawk Caldera I need somewhere to begin

*rolls up sleeves...*

Either the yarrow is helping or he's recovering on his own. Peregrine can't be sure, of course, but either way, he's feeling a little better, day by day. It'll take some time before he's back to full capacity—if he ever gets there at all—and fevers still plague his sleep, yet he'll take what he can get, honestly. He's been through so much mental, emotional and physical torment lately that it's a wonder that he's alive at all (no thanks to Peregrine himself...).

It's late morning and he walks through the territory, taking it nice and slow, when he looks up and sees colorful lights shifting in the sky. Peregrine squints (both eyes work, though he doesn't notice) but then shrugs and keeps moving. His eyes dart ahead to the edge of the forest. Had that been there yesterday? Wait, what about the famine? Like the strange phenomena overhead, he simply decides to accept it. He meanders that way, toward an ethereal oak, suddenly aware that nothing hurts, not even his heart.

Then he sees him and Peregrine stops. He blinks. "Peter?" he says, his stomach somersaulting and his heart skipping a beat. He takes one step, then another, then starts running, no, flying. "Pete!" The name gusts out of him in breathless half-shout as he comes to stand over his youngest son. His eyes are gold. They're glowing. "Oh, Peter Pan..." the swarthy wolf croons, buckling so that he falls to his belly in front of the pup.