Heron Lake Plateau Is it for the best? My reputation's never been worse

It was always a pleasure to meet with the little black healer. Raven was always delightful to be around, mirroring the Blackthorn litter's usual vibrancy if not their verve. Of course, Raven was several years their elder. While Fiadh was the equivalent of an eight year old seeking independence and respect for the very first time, Raven was like a well put together woman who had it all figured out. Now that she was a little unsure about Towhee's place as her go-to role model, and with a little lingering butthurt over Finley's reaction to her upset, the Blackthorn found herself looking to more composed, mature wolves for cues.

Her own face broke into a wide grin and her grey tail waved jovially behind her as she pranced the last couple of feet toward Raven and answered, "not much. Was gonna go fuck with that stretchy neck freakshow," she said, jabbing her muzzle in the direction of the nervous heron, "but he doesn't look like much of a party goer. Looks like a lame-o." Her eyes shone with amusement as they returned to Raven's face—her nose, specifically, rather than her equally bright yellow eyes—and she said, "heard there's a new boss in town. Someone really awesome and smart, they say. Any idea who it could be?" Her mirth very nearly gave away her little joke—of course she knew.