Kintla Flatlands Sound the bugle

As he walked upriver along an unfamiliar shore, Peregrine daydreamed about seeking revenge on Tyrannus in a dozen different ways, each of them more violently imaginative than the last. Wallowing in these dark fantasies put him in a very sour mood. Woe the creature that crossed his path right now; he would vent his bitterly savage wrath upon anyone who dared mess with him.

The sun began to sink and, with it, his mood blackened even more, though it lost its edge and became much more dismal. He thought of his beloved sister, Osprey, and just hoped that she was doing all right without him. In three years, they'd never been apart and this separation was without a doubt the worst part of his exile. It made Perry feel sick in the depths of his soul.

That day, she'd come after him, risking Tyrannus's anger. She'd wanted to come with him—"I go where you go, remember?"—but he'd insisted she stay. She would be safe and happy with the Flightless Falcons and there was no reason for her to be put through the same upheaval. She'd insisted and he'd lashed out in anger tinged with terrible sadness. He'd softened immediately and they'd exchanged a mournful goodbye...

Will I ever see her again? he wondered to himself, the hollow ache growing powerful enough to stop him in his tracks. He felt dizzy with it. He felt like he would retch. In fact, his throat rippled and he heaved, yet produced nothing. He hadn't eaten since his exile a week ago and Peregrine suddenly felt paralyzed, unable to cope with the sudden loss of his sister, his pack and everything he'd ever known.