Redhawk Caldera roses are yuge, violets are bigly

Gently, Raven set the dried flowers on the earth that covered her father's body. They were likely to blow away with the next crisp breeze, yet she wasn't worried about it. It was the sentiment that mattered, really, and since she had no medical use for these shriveled blossoms, it seemed fitting to leave them here in remembrance. With a gentle sigh, she then reposed on her slim black haunches and just stared at the soil. No grass had grown over the grave site on account of the season, so the patch of dirt sort of stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Miss you, dud," the young Gamma murmured, striking out a forelimb and pressing her paw over his resting place, leaning her weight into it to leave behind a perfect imprint.