Redhawk Caldera I bet they've never had a broken heart

Between escorting Cinder to find Wraen and then Reyes to find the Frosthawks, Fig had been a very busy boy. He was pleased that his offer to contribute more to the pack wasn't being disregarded, but it did begin to make him wonder more about what his schedule would be like when and if he ever became a leader of his own pack. As he paced the borders that day, still feeling weary from his travels, he came to the conclusion that there was likely to be a lot of exhaustion in his future. Might as well get used to it now.

His ears perked at the familiar voice that rang across the Caldera, shortly followed by a wag of his tail. He finished marking the rock he'd spent an inordinate amount of time inspecting before cantering off to answer the summons. It didn't take him too long to find his sister along the borders. He came to her with a smile, and a playful little growl. "Halt there, witch," Fig commanded, obviously in jest, "Keep your curses to yourself and you might just live another day." He paused, "If you're alive at all... Are witches undead? Are you a zombie witch? Is that a thing?"