Redhawk Caldera we're on the island of misfit toys

Raven had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid bursting into laughter at Lagan's query. Her yellow eyes danced and as soon as she trusted herself to speak without giggling, she replied, "Of course." Elwood took the opportunity to gently correct the boy, though the mirthful look on the yearling's face didn't falter. Semantics aside, she was thrilled that her little cousin was so welcoming of her to ask such a thing. Everyone had been so wonderful to her so far, it was almost breathtaking at times.

"Like he said," Raven picked up where Elwood had left off, "he isn't going anywhere anytime soon. And your mom will be back soon too. But everyone in this pack will look out for you. We're all family here, that's what we do," she concluded, exchanging a look with her uncle over the boy's head.

She spared a moment to wonder about Liffey's whereabouts—perhaps she was simply still asleep? It was early—before shifting gears slightly and asking, "So, Lagan, has anyone talked to you about trades yet?"