Redhawk Caldera We never really lose them

He was still lingering near the border, unable—unwilling?—to enter the land in which he'd seen. . .whatever had happened, the other day. It haunted him. Add to that the crushing reality of Bronco's death—and not far in the background, Caracal's—and he wandered somewhat aimlessly, eyes glazed over. Intermittently weeping and staring.

Killdeer was engaged in the latter activity when he caught sight of a dark figure patrolling, marking the border. He squinted slightly and found that said figure was familiar, in a good way, and he mustered a faint smile as he rose to his paws and chuffed in her direction.

Hey, he greeted. His voice was hoarse and cracked on that one word, but warm enough. Amalia, right? It's good to see you.

It wasn't a lie—he'd liked the woman upon his first visit to Brecheliant. Perhaps some company was just what the doctor ordered.