Redhawk Caldera a shadow tilts its head at me

Assuming this is midday Nov. 1st for timeline purposes.

A familiar voice finally roused Fox from her slumber, and she turned to check-in with Peregrine. It took a full five seconds before the dread set in and she remembered the events of the previous night. She felt like she could barely move, but that voice—it called to her. She knew that voice. Fox wasn't sure where Whip or Gannet had gone. Or anybody, for that matter. Her head felt foggy and like there was a dull thud each time her heart beat.

Stiff, sore, and ultimately wanting nothing more than to curl up and ignore the world for the rest of her life, Fox forced herself to overcome such silly notions. Just because Peregrine wasn't here didn't mean she was allowed to give up. She had to be strong in his absence. One step at a time, she made her way to the borders. Her eyes were bloodshot and her fur ragged, especially on her shoulders where Peregrine had given her a reminding mark.

Fox squinted at the figure that stood just a few feet in front of her before recognition finally overtook her expression and her eyes widened. "Raven?" she croaked. Their daughter could not have come at a more depressing time, but Fox felt somehow that she must have known what had happened. She wasn't superstitious in the least, but perhaps her daughter had felt her father's absence.