Redhawk Caldera fading away

The badger den was right where she had left it, of course. Raven spent a day or so cleaning out all the junk, including several sprigs of shriveled herbs that crumbled at her touch (and made her frown a bit at the waste—no one's fault but her own). She then placed what few fresh herbs she had found so far into the makeshift medicine cabinet and marked the area. She knew her pack mates wouldn't mess with her stocks; she wanted to make sure that any herbivores who wandered past knew better than to try to make a meal out of them.

After working on it a bit this morning, Raven wandered back to the rendezvous site to check on her mother. Instead, she found herself almost stumbling over a prostrate form on the ground. "Oh, sorry!" she half-shouted, wheeling backward and peering down at the wolf. For an instant, she thought she might be looking at her Uncle Elwood but no, it wasn't her godfather. She stared for a beat before comprehension dawned.

"Eljay?" she ventured a guess. "Is that you?" Before giving him an opportunity to respond, her yellow eyes scanned him from head to foot to the tip of his tail and she asked worriedly, "Are you sick?"