Lost Creek Hollow Doesn't matter if you need it or not

Mae continued her wandering throughout Riverclan, finding that she wasn't quite ready to return to Kvarsheim yet. She would be back with them before nightfall, she'd already decided, but for now she wanted to explore. It was only midday, and there was plenty left to see.

She might have been content with her quiet tour of the territory, if not for the familiar scent that came to her on the wind. The fur along her spine bristled all the way down to the base of her tail. She knew that scent, knew it as bad, but from where?

If Mae had seemed oddly unaffected by the trauma of that night in the swamp, it was because that was exactly the case. Already the memory of it was slipping away from her; she hardly knew what had happened that night, except that she'd lost a packmate and gained a sister. She hadn't known Moss, so she didn't mourn her either. And maybe she would have gone on that way, if nothing had reminded her.

The young Frostfur-Mayfair was trembling a little already as she pursued the source of the scent, not wanting to but feeling that she had to. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the den. But why?

The yawning darkness of its entrance seemed to grow the longer she stared. Mae crept closer, paws shaking. She leaned forward to peer in with breath held — and when she saw him, when she saw @Bonario, everything else fell away.

Mae started to scream.