Bitterroot Valley Never Close to Heaven

The rusted brown male missed the whisper that slipped from Fréobearn, not that it particularly mattered, it wasn't relevant to him. She closed the distance, Cal wasn't expecting the embrace, but he didn't reject it. It was a slice of something familiar in strange and new lands.

Unfortunately, his staring did not go unnoticed as Fréo was quick to defend her injuries. You lost your tail. Even if it didn't hurt, that seemed pretty serious to the hunter. At least she had her family, her siblings, it was more than he could say. Was Corliss even alive? He prayed time would tell, for better or for worse, it was better than the unknown.

Uncle Brewster lags behind me. His paw was burned so I ventured off in search of anyone else who survived and a healer.