Redhawk Caldera Thirty days in the dungeon!

Honestly, Raven felt like a zombie as she meandered through the morning mist in search of... she couldn't quite recall. She stopped and stood there, trying to focus, but she was too tired. She lingered for a few more minutes, then turned and began walking back toward the den. She needed a lot of things—food, water, a bathroom—but, more than anything else, she needed sleep.

She returned nearly simultaneously with Finley. But whereas the Alpha female greeted her mate in a chipper voice, the Gamma could only stare at the tiny body sitting just inside the den's mouth. Oh no, she thought. Oh no, oh no... When she lowered herself beside her little sister and cradled her between her forelegs, Raven could only stare for a moment. Then she began to groom the unfortunate pup, ignoring the damp, cool, limp state of her corpse.

Raven was so tired of death, she felt like she could scream. Simultaneously, she felt a twinge of relief that came with a side dish of horrible guilt. It was the clinical side of her acknowledging that it would be easier to care for five than six. Choking back the sobs that tried to claw their way up her throat, she pulled little would-be Stoat to her chest and sent out a silent apology to Peregrine and Fox.