Redhawk Caldera it's over.

Raven remembered the day when her parents had declared it a requirement to become a mercenary of some sort. The details were fuzzy around the edges but she recalled the sinking of her stomach with nearly perfect clarity. Fortunately, it no longer appeared to be a prerequisite for life in the caldera. She was no fighter. She wanted to dedicate her life to healing, not harming, others. And she hated patrolling.

What she was doing now didn't count. It was so cold today that staying still simply wasn't an option. Raven just happened to be near the borders when she began her brisk walk. If she happened to squat every few hundred yards to refresh the border markings, well, that was no one's business but her own. She liked to think that if a guest or trespasser materialized, she would be able to handle it, yet the young Gamma made no promises, even to herself.

That was why she froze when she saw a silver figure up ahead. She licked her lips nervously, squinting. She then blinked, eyes suddenly widening. "Aunt Flea?" she whispered under her breath, yellow gaze tracking over the trademark stripe on her godmother's spine. "Aunt Flea!" she shouted a little more loudly, suddenly breaking into a gallop that carried her to the clearly careworn woman.

"Aunt Flea, are you okay?" Raven asked, forgetting to reintroduce herself. Without waiting for an answer, she sent up a loud cry for @Fox, @Elwood or @Eljay. As soon as it was issued, she focused on Finley again and asked, "Do you need food? Water? Anything?"