Redhawk Caldera when you are dreaming, you see for miles and miles

Peregrine stood over the body of his dead pack mate and steadied himself with a deep breath. He had been out for a walk when he had seen Amon curled on the ground. He had called out to him, only to be met with an ominous silence. Now he knew why he hadn't received an answer. Slowly, the Alpha male lowered his muzzle, touching his nose against Amon's cold, stiff shoulder. He wondered how long ago Amon had stopped here. Hours? Days?

He thought back on the last time he'd seen the old timer alive. It couldn't have been more than two or three weeks ago. Peregrine had brought Amon food while he and Mikael had gotten to know one other. He had seemed fine then. Even now, the Alpha didn't detect any signs of an illness. He knew Amon had been old, just not... this old.

Peregrine sat, keeping a quiet vigil for a few moments. At length, he lifted his swarthy muzzle into the air to inform the pack of Amon's passing. His howl echoed over the caldera's sweeping territory, touching every last member's ears, asking them to join him in mourning and, if possible, come help him bury the earthly remains of their fallen comrade.