Blacktail Deer Plateau Professional griefers

Atticus's optimistic words made Peregrine grateful, yet at the same time, he feared to hope. "If I don't accept the possibility, it will fucking shatter me if it turns out she's gone," he admitted almost too softly to hear. Although it was amusing (if excruciatingly painful) to picture Osprey wrestling with bears, it was much more likely she'd been mauled by a bear or any other large predator; or died of exposure; or, of course, the most likely cause: drowning.

Peregrine mustered a low, grateful whine when his brother licked his head, then turned and weakly returned the gesture with a single swipe of his tongue over Atticus's bristly muzzle. He then let his head sink to rest across his litter mate's forelegs.

"This is where I buried Pied," he murmured. His brain was too gummy from grief and lack of sleep that he couldn't remember if Atticus already knew that. He most likely did. "I wish she was here, Atti, and you know why? Pied could see ghosts. I decided I believe she was telling the truth about that. And if she was here... and if she couldn't see Osprey... then I'd know that it was okay to hope."