Heron Lake Plateau the divine wings of tragedy

For @Fire!

She stood over her children's grave, which was garnished with a small cluster of wildflowers she had gathered in the fields surrounding the lake. The bright, cheery blossoms of white and yellow were a stark contrast to the somber reality that dead babies lay beneath them, having never been given the chance to run among the flowers themselves. She felt that low, perpetual stir of hatred deep within her -- a truly uncharacteristic and foreign emotion for Raven Redhawk, whose soul was forged from sunshine and joy. Towhee had already killed Screech, yet the anger still remained. This was his doing.

"Sleep well, Seagull. My pretty little sea bird," she whispered softly, feeling a soft breath of wind tousle the fur on her nape and back. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she smelled the ocean just then. "And you, my boy. My Grey Jay. Keep her safe." After all the excitement and distraction over the other four had died down, their mother hadn't been able to get these two out of her mind. Depression had crept in as she thought of them, cold and nameless, lying alone in an unmarked grave, robbed of life by an uncle who should have protected and loved them. She had decided to name them. They deserved names, did they not? It wasn't their fault they were dead.

@Quixote had understood she needed some time to herself, so he graciously offered to take over in the den so Raven could go for a walk. Picking the flowers had been surprisingly cathartic, and now that she stood over a brightly-decorated grave, speaking her children's names to them, she felt a little better.