Moonspear My baby here on Earth

He doesn't respond to Treepie, something sour holding him silent.

The den is an uncomfortable sight. So many good memories came flooding back, but it was impossible to smile at them now. Sparing Treepie a glance, he took a few seconds before slipping inside.

The pelt was still there. Not in good shape, some of the fur had been picked at and stolen by birds, but it was there. Ludo took it in his jaws with the same gentle care you took when carrying a fragile pup, eyes scanning over the old den. It didn't smell like his family anymore, but the signs were still there. The shallow hole from where Ignace slept, the claw marks Pala had them each make when they moved in. He blinked away tears and left the den.

Thanks, Treepie.