Heron Lake Plateau omens in the clouds

As he spoke, she found some small measure of comfort in his words. It wasn't always like her to jump to the worst possible conclusion, but it did happen from time to time. Particularly when Blackfeather was anywhere in the picture. She hadn't fought in the war, but she'd treated the wounded and she'd seen first-hand how bad it had been. She didn't want more bloodshed or strife. She didn't want more conflict, she didn't want to have to move again. All she really wanted was for her and her packmates to be left the hell alone. Was that really so much to ask?

A grin flitted across her face and she touched his cheek with her nose. It was interesting, how they reversed roles sometimes. Usually it was Quixote who was a buzzing ball of stress and anxiety, coming to her for calming advice. This time, it was the other way around. Still, misgivings lingered in the back of her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that Ceara was locked up somewhere, harassed and tormented for the sick amusement of those twisted assholes. She kept flashing back to the memory of her sister, Wildfire, showing up broken and bleeding after escaping from those accursed woods. It wasn't a difficult connection to make -- Wildfire and Ceara looked a lot alike.

"I don't want to go toe-to-toe with those jerks again," she said softly after a moment of thought. "But I would if I had to. I'd go to war for Ceara. Hopefully Tegan and Rory -- maybe even X -- can bring us some answers soon." Not only was the Blackthorn one of the closest friends Raven had ever had, but she was a Redhawk too. Ceara was one of hers, and she would stop at nothing to protect her own.