Blacktail Deer Plateau Professional griefers

I am so lost with all this recent plot development, holy crap. @__@

Much like his brother, Atticus had not slept. Had not eaten. Compared to his usual handsome composure and confidence, he was a wreck. Though every adult in every family always insisted they did not play favorites with children, that was always a lie. There was always a favorite. And Junior had been his favorite. Her disappearance had distressed him in a way that nothing ever had before. Ever. Being nearly killed by a brother he had loved and looked up to didn't come close. The sense of betrayal and imminent doom he had felt when he'd been convinced Peregrine was doing the same wasn't even comparable. Even his own child suddenly disappearing out of his life didn't hold a candle to the raging inferno of anger and despair that consumed him, burning and agonizing and driving him to search desperately for her all hours of the day and night, his own health, his own pack, his own responsibilities be damned.

He was searching for her when he found his brother, sprawled across Pied's grave. As if that'll help anything, he couldn't help thinking angrily as he approached. Part of him couldn't help blaming Peregrine for the child's disappearance, though he knew that was unfair and irrational. "Hey," he greeted Perry in a husky, strained voice, first sitting down near his brother and then crumpling further to lie down. He was exhausted; the drawn cast to his face, the tired slump of his shoulders, and the red that rimmed his glacier eyes made it all the more apparent.