Heron Lake Plateau the divine wings of tragedy

Another whispering susurration of wind in the treetops, invisible fingers running up her back and through her mane. A scent came to her before the sound of a voice, and she smiled. Perhaps some might have wanted their space in a moment such as this, but Raven was not one of those. She welcomed the company of her friend, a wolf who had managed to gain her affection and trust in a surprisingly short time through the devotion and loyalty she'd consistently shown since the day she'd arrived. "Ceara," she said softly, turning to look at the she-wolf draped in October shades. "Hi. And...thanks." She grinned a little somberly as she looked down at the grave once more. "It didn't seem right not to name them."