Cricket Creek Bog fed me skittles on a burial ground

On the south end of Grouse Thicket, near Cricket Creek Bog.  For @Raven.

How many miles had he crossed?  He was tired, worn pitifully thin, paw pads cracked from being constantly on the move.  Peregrine looked ragged on a good day, and the travel wasn't helping him any.

But he had to keep moving.  

She'd told him about this place as he grew up — not that he thought he'd ever find it.  It hadn't been his intention to come to the Teekon Wilds.  He couldn't tell that this was her home by the way it looked but by the way it smelled.  Scent is the least verbose of all the senses.  Perfume lingers, and then it's gone.  He wished to hold onto it just a little longer.  His chest squeezed, his stomach churned.

Oh, mama.  

Grief and anger flared up in him, and just as quickly vanished.  His ears fell to the side as his lips flattened, and he drew his nose to the ground to pick up an apple to carry with him on his way out.  Just a little while longer.