Lost Creek Hollow cuate

Crowfeather had been busy tending to the boys in the healing quarters. His free time had been spent outside the dens, listening for them, bringing new stocks of herbs to lay beside them while they rested. In the quiet outside Riverclan's place of healing, Crowfeather had found his mind wandering to memories colored in nostalgic pink.

Weaving through the brush, the shadow would have missed Silvertongue entirely if it had not been for the fluttering of a bright-winged butterfly. His eyes followed it to where it hovered over the woman.

Hello, Silvertongue, his voice cracked.