Grouse Thicket I am not throwing away my shot

Just as his call faded out, a different voice rose up to replace his - not an echo, not his own - and he skittered back before he steeled himself and cupped both ears forward. The voice was feminine and not Ceara's, but it spoke her name. This other one knew his sister, and he realized, then, that hers had been the voice he had heard on the wind.

Her call had an edge that unsettled him - demanding, and full of urgency, yet lined with concern, and he wasn't surprised. The cropping of the Plateau he could glimpse between the trees still reminded him of the life he'd left behind, the pack his sister still fought for with tooth and claw. Would they remember him? Did he want them to? Was this one of them?

"She's family," he called back, careful in the words he relayed. Ceara had friends here, a life, and a family - and though he tried not to care about what they thought of him, he couldn't help but wonder if he had hurt Ceara by leaving her again, and whether that made him an enemy here. "Who are you?"