Redhawk Caldera communism? NO! socialism? NO! be happy!!✌: )

First came a youthful howl, full of sorrow- followed by the voice of Reyes that called out specifically for Niamh and Towhee. Her throat clenched, and she made her way toward the borders, expecting that the first who'd called might be a messenger from the Glen. She'd half expected one of them to show up dys ago, to pick up where Meerkat left off and tell them exactly what had happened, and what had become of the bear. 

As she made her way down the slope she couldn't quite make out the wolves, who were blocked by some shrubs that grew along the ground in her path. She zig-zagged her way through them, peering forward, to catch sight of the dark form of Reyes and another she didn't recognize up. The brush blocked her view of them from their chest down, but their visitor had an unusual, patchwork pelt that caught her eye. She was prepared to receive whatever news the young yearling would have, but nothing could have prepared her for what she'd see once she came clear of the highbush blueberry brambles. 

There on the snow was the limp body of her precious little son. She let out a horrid shriek and charged toward the small assembly, hovering far too close to her beloved Petal's body. Her heart had cracked and let loose a rush of savage rage as she thundered through the snow, sending it spraying in waves aongside her. Before she reached them, her teeth were bared and a snarl reverbrated on the air- warning them both that they ought to step away from Primrose's body. The snarl became an anguished wail the closer she came, and by the time she reached them she temporarily lost the conviction that had made her so fearsome.

As she fell to the snow next to his quiet, empty body she whimpered for a moment, sniffing over him and gently hovering her muzzle over his broken crown, inspecting the damage that had been done what must have been several days ago. If not for the winter's cool touch, his body might have begun to reek the foul stench of decomposition, but as it was she could still smell the faint, lingering scent that belonged to her son, though it was growing faint. Her gaze snapped up and she turned her grief-stricken grimace to the stranger. "You found him?" She demanded. What had happened to him was reasonably obvious, by the wound on his head. No tooth marks, and no stranger's blood on him. Still- she assumed the young man might have some answers for her.