Dawnlark Plains [m]Tell my almost ex-wife That I loved her and left her too soon

For timeline's sake I'm gonna say this is set following Artyom's visit to Seelie Court - on his way home to Whitebark Stream.

For more than half a year, Artyom had made his home in the Snowforest Taiga. Tucked away in some safe little nook by the stream, he thought it to be the most wonderful place. He'd found Dawn there and entered a whirlwind romance with her. Together they built their family and welcomed a litter, dived headfirst into what presented as a perfect and rewarding life.

Artyom knew all too well that wonderful things could be short-lived. Stress after stress, loss after loss, he was rapidly losing faith not only in his ability to lead, but in the territory his pack claimed. It had never been Dawn's intention to settle there forever, he contemplated along the Eastern route he'd taken to seek audience with Lumiya. Perhaps, he found himself wondering, their family had simply overstayed their welcome among the pale trees.

Maybe it was time to move on.

Such thoughts were cut short, however, as movement of a pale figure among the plain's wild verdant grasses captured his attention. The flaxen ranger lifted his muzzle in attempt to better see this oddly familiar pelt of frost and ash, something that reminded him at once of young @Minnow.

Artyom veered toward them, a new eagerness in his stride and an enthusiastic sway if his giled tail. There was nnothing that ccoul've prepared him for the scene that presented itself as he drew closer, however, and his blood ran cold with shock.

Dawn!? Artyom's initial, fearful thought was that the sterling-furred figure on the ground was that of his beloved. He felt something akin to relief flood through him to see that this wolf's tail remained intact, though it was short-lived. "Sunny!"

His brother by law, a shell of the man he'd known only briefly. Guilt tightened the pale hunter's throat as he looked on, helpless, at Dawn's wayward littermate as he lay defeated on the ground. Hovering sorrowfully over him, the pallid yearling he'd mistaken as his missing niece was, in fact, his missing nephew.

"Oh, Sunny," he murmured, remaining in the background for fear of overstepping any boundaries that may provoke Valiant to react with aggression. Artyom, unskilled in the realm of medicine, could not conjure any thought of what herb or potion might aid him on this final journey.