Nova Peak revolution deathsquad

He stalked the same sounder as before, amused when he realized they followed the exact same routine today. When they came to rest at the foot of the nearby peak, Cambria suddenly remembered the remains he’d discovered. He retraced his own steps, scaling the mountainside until he found the ledge, then winding along the path to the dugout.

Everything looked more or less the same. This time, nobody else came along, so Cambria could take some time to assess the scene. There were dark brown stains on the stone underfoot. He dropped his nose to one and picked up traces of old blood, though most of the scent was gone by now. Only the carcass itself had any real smell, though even the stench of decay had begun to fade.

He spent perhaps an hour looking for clues and pondering what had happened here. Cambria had yet to mention his discovery to the Redtails. Whether or not they knew about this wolf and his fate, the yearling decided he shouldn’t just leave what was left of him exposed. He deserved a proper burial.

He spent another few hours filling in the dugout someone had likely painstakingly carved out of the mountainside at some point. By the time Cambria finished, there was no really no sign of it beyond the freshly packed earth. He nosed a loose stone in front of the makeshift cairn, urinating on it to deter anyone who might disturb the grave.

Not that there was much left of you, the Dragonling murmured to himself. Rest in peace, I suppose.

Feeling rather worn out from the endeavor, Cambria sighed and dropped back down into the grotto. His mouth watered as the scent of the nearby pigs drifted into his nose, nudging aside the thought of a well-deserved nap. The yearling hesitated, then turned, creeping back toward where the lot of them rested in the shade below the mount.