Redhawk Caldera Event horizon.

She knew this peaceful phase wouldn’t last forever, though Towhee had not anticipated just how hard fate would strike down the Redhawks—namely, their Patriarch. @Killdeer failed to return from a routine hunt in a haunting echo of Maxim’s fate, pitching the elder Redhawk into a strife that rivaled her younger self’s.

She did everything she could do keep it together for @Amalia and the kids, not to mention the others. But every minute of every day was a struggle. Towhee wanted to go out and search every inch of the wilderness for him, though she knew she needed to stay at the caldera. She asked @Alivia and @Cinar if they could search in her stead.

Killdeer hadn’t merely gotten lost somewhere out there; something awful must’ve happened to waylay the new father. He might need help and time was of the essence. There was still hope for a safe return at this point, though that window would soon close. Towhee couldn’t decide which possibility was worse: discovering he had perished out there or never finding any trace of him whatsoever.

Towhee stood at the foot of the caldera, staring vaguely into the distance to the south. She willed Bushtit to come to her, so she could dispatch him to look as well. Meanwhile, she threw back her head and bayed her tortured grief to the thunderheads rolling in from the east.

A call like that was not a thing often heard.

She had dared to meander towards the sound, curious of what life remained around her in winding travels. Summer seemed plenty fine for the lone wolf but instinct would always demand a check-in with fellow kind at some points. Perhaps she, too, missed the steadiness of a formed body.

The woman that eventually was spotted on the horizon was a strong figure. Tall and strong, even if dotted by age. Trailhawk did not see age as a weakness. Instead it spoke well to a life lived and what the land in the area might provide.

It was not grief that she responded to the somber sound from earlier with. It was curiosity and, in turn, an announcement of her nearness.

She had no way of knowing it would not be heard in return.

Despite letting her anguish loose, it didn’t seem to abate. Towhee dropped her head, eyes closing as it hung between her shoulders. After a moment, she raised it again, her orange eyes—rimmed with red from lack of sleep—scouring the distant line where gray sky met green earth.

Her heart leaped in her chest when she spied a figure in the distance, only to sink a moment later. It wasn’t Killdeer. It wasn’t Bushtit either. Although sharing her son’s pale coloration and feminine features, the stranger sported an entirely different physique. Towhee’s jaw clenched and she cut her eyes away, having no interest in a rendezvous.

Thunder grumbled, followed by a pulse of light still contained in the thick cloud cover along with any rainfall. As the sky darkened considerably, her gaze swung back to the figure. Towhee knew it was folly, pouring resources into finding her missing grandson, yet she couldn’t resist the sudden urge to beckon the she-wolf closer with a clipped bark.

Had she overstepped?

It was possible. Still she lingered, the rain and thunder did not deter her presence. Nor did the way the woman looked away from her. Steadfast she remained until the older woman returned her attentions.

The clipped sound was far different than any grieving sound but it demanded her own attention all the same. With a near obedience, she moved closer on lean limbs. A servant's prowl as the distance closed between them. Mindful enough to respect both borders and personal space.

Although wordless, she tilted her head, expectant for the older woman to speak.

The ghostly silhouette began moving nearer. Meanwhile, the summer storm unleashed its fury in a squall that matched Towhee’s own. She couldn’t hear the thunderclap but she felt when it shook the earth beneath her paws. The gloomy air lit up like a flashbulb, then the rain came pouring down a beat later. Towhee’s ears flattened but she didn’t move otherwise as her narrowed eyes watched the woman’s approach.

Have you seen a black and red wolf nearby? Possibly injured? she demanded, raising her voice to be heard over the sounds of the storm, or so she hoped.

She knew the answer before she even asked. No, this wolf hadn’t seen Killdeer. Next, Towhee could ask her to keep an eye peeled for the missing Redhawk. But what could would that do? She would probably never see this woman again and, besides, why should she bother searching for some man she didn’t know? It was all so desperately futile.

She could only assume that the woman had wailed like the summer storm for this mysterious wolf. Black, red, maybe injured. The wilds could be unforgiving to any and all creatures that walked upon it. Such was the way of life and nature — yet even that knowledge did not diminish the grief one could feel when those things came.

No. She stated plainly and found there was a tightness in her throat to announce it. It was not her fault, but she still came as a bearer of bad news.

Trailhawk had to imagine that was why she lingered still. As if they both must carry this grief now.

Despite anticipating the woman’s answer, Towhee couldn’t help but hiss, Fuck, the sound getting lost in the rush of rain.

She knew there was no use in trying to get a perfect stranger to join the search; it just made no logistical sense. Towhee knew it was already a waste of time, sending out her own pack mates. Yet doing nothing felt impossible. Every fiber of her being seethed at the idea of simply accepting his disappearance and moving on as if Killdeer was anything but one of the most beloved wolves in her life.

Another expletive exploded out of her, this one drowned out by a peal of thunder that rocked her old bones. This situation would be unbearable even without its historic parallels, though losing Killdeer in such a manner reopened old wounds. Lightning spliced the sky this time, like a metaphor for the agony shocking its way through her.

She was in no mindset or mood to entertain this stranger any further, though the elder she-wolf gathered her wits enough to say, There’s a tree… Towhee gestured vaguely, then pivoted and began walking toward the fruit tree growing right along the borderline. Shelter and shit, she mumbled, mostly to herself.

thanks for helping me work off the rust as usual! if it feels right to fade here then feel free

Sharp and biting, but understood at each turn.

Trailhawk stayed. She listened, she watched. Even as the skies became an uglier thing and roared with their own emotions. Logic said she really ought to go. Leave the grieving to those who had loved and lost.

What was the harm in accepting some kind of shelter, though? In maybe seeing if this lost face turned upon on the borders while she rested. Hushed she followed, inclined to accept this good offering.

Then pondered on if it was appropriate to inquire more about this place, about its people. She doubted the woman was in the mood for any kind of diplomatic discussions that were not centered around the retrieval of the lost wolf. Not now, not this very raw moment. Maybe after the rest and the storm passed on...

Her tail waved behind her in wordless thanks.

It’s my pleasure! And I’m definitely down to continue. :D

She didn’t check to see if the stranger followed her. She either did or she didn’t. Either way, Towhee was going to get out of this onslaught. She disregarded the voice in the back of her mind, whispering about the dangers of sheltering beneath trees. But she’d been hit by lightning before (at least, she was pretty sure…) and just now, the Redhawk didn’t particularly care about her own safety.

The instant she set foot under the tree’s shivering boughs, Towhee slumped to the ground. She jumped slightly when she realized the stranger had accompanied her. She shifted back into a seated position, a wet shoulder pressing against the trunk to support her weight. There was something underneath her and when she looked down, she saw a piece of mushy fruit.

Pain speared through her as a stupid memory bulldozed her. Considering everything else that had transpired that day, Towhee was surprised she remembered this inspid detail. Trust her scumbag brain to recall something like that just to throw it at her heart like a poisoned dart. It hurt so much, she actually wondered if she was having a heart attack.

She used a forepaw to flick the offending fruit out into the storm, then brought that same paw to rub at her chest as her grainy eyes found the other she-wolf again. Towhee didn’t have the bandwidth to wonder much about her, though eventually a question popped into her mouth like a small bubble emerging from the surface of one of the puddles nearby.

Who are you?

Together they sheltered, Trailhawk did not press for any more details. Not about the place, the woman or the wayward. They would come out in time or not. Sleep might have been nice after all the wandering and the sound of the thunderstorm always lulled. Yet she never plunged beyond a half-asleep state as they shared the space. Respectful and survival in equal turns.

However she found herself closer to the land of awakened by the rolling fruit and dragged fully back by the question.

This was a start to what she wanted, yes?

Without any interest continued in its expulsion, she looked away from the discarded mushy fruit and towards the older woman. Trailhawk. A lazy one thump of her tail. You are? She knew she must keep the ball rolling for this to be an actual conversation, to gain any true knowledge of this place and its people.

The “hawk” snared her attention, despite herself. Towhee drew in a deep breath, willing herself to focus on this stranger. Much as it felt like a betrayal to think of anything other than Killdeer and his fate, she could use the distraction. Besides, what the hell else was she going to do with herself at the moment, stuck under this tree until the storm ceased?

Redhawk, she muttered in reply, then clarified, First name: Towhee. She heaved a sigh, if only because small talk required so much effort right now. Do you live around here? Or just passing through?

The rain slackened somewhat, Towhee noted dimly. But the storm did not relent, if the shuddering was any indication. The tremor hadn’t even dissipated before the sky lit up again. Towhee’s eyes caught a glimpse of the bolt forking through the sky between the wet leaves of the fruit tree, so bright it earned a squint.

She quickly cut her aching eyes over to Trailhawk to capture any reply she made, doing her best to ignore the spots dancing in her vision.

Redhawk!

She wondered if she should know this face then. Although Towhee was the first name the older woman held. It should be no surprise that others of their kind donned animal names when living in such lively places. Yet some part of it allowed Trailhawk her own moment of...melancholy, yearning even. She was not exactly a believer of fates but she could not deny the shift of her emotions in learning these things.

Between lightning and thunder, she was afforded these small moments of thinking and feeling.

Passing through. She confided in the other woman when she could return her full focus to her once more. Maybe live near soon. It was a bit of a girlish admission that she felt she had made. Blame it on the earlier yearning.

What is Redhawk home like?

The spotty vision made lipreading pretty difficult, especially in the low light. Towhee wasn’t sure if she missed a word here or there or if Trailhawk simply neglected to use proper sentences. It didn’t much matter to her, as she did what she always did: pieced together context clues to glean the other’s meaning.

I would’ve said wonderful, a few days ago, Towhee replied, biting the lower lip that wobbled against her will. She steadied herself with a breath before continuing, The wolf I asked you about, he’s my grandson. His mate just had a litter about a month ago. He went out hunting the other day and just… never came home.

Her chest tightened as Towhee once more relived her feelings over losing Maxim. Was the same nightmare scenario playing out now? For Mal’s sake—and the kids’, her own too—she desperately hoped history wasn’t repeating itself. How long had her mate been gone before she’d concluded that the only possible answer was death?

She shoved that thought away and said to Trailhawk, I’d give you the recruitment spiel but I don’t have it in me right now, sorry. It’s not a good time. But if you’re looking… we could use the help. Towhee paused, tears pricking her aching eyes as lightning cleaved the sky in perfect rapport with the vibrato. Especially right now.

Grandson gone missing — and great grandchildren left fatherless. A wife left without a husband. She understood deeply now why the woman had called to the skies with such sharp grief, why this hung so heavily over the both of them now. It was not just a member gone wayward without a word. It was family and the ripples that were left in their wake were heavier than anybody simply departing a group.

She did not need to voice any possible concerns or conclusions they could both come to. Gone hunting and never returned.

Once more, she did not believe in fate, but it was clear there was both a need and a want here. Both of them could benefit from a more prolonged presence. The recruitment spiel would have been unnecessary when the Redhawk already shared so much with her.

I was looking. She declared with a longer, thoughtful gaze at the woman. I can stay. I will help in any ways needed. No recruitment spiel needed.

Hunting, search parties. She was a wolf and her skills stood alongside all of those before her.

Give me first task and I will go after storm.

She blinked against the harsh illumination of the sky as if it sought to taunt the two of them.

“I can stay,” Trailhawk said and Towhee felt a tiny measure of relief at having done something useful, even if they were no closer to finding Killdeer and bringing him home. She also felt a deep gratitude toward the woman’s willingness to dig in rather than flee the scene, given the pack’s troubles.

Find Amalia—she’s Killdeer’s mate and the pack’s Matriarch—and introduce yourself, Towhee said, realizing she’d only just now said his name too. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she added, Then hunt… and search while you’re at it. Don’t go any further than one territory away. Better yet, call for Alivia or Cinar to join you. And be careful. We don’t know what happened to him.

It was not much different than what her mother might have once said to her. No more than one territory away, take someone with. The unspoken looming idea that something worse than just a hunting accident had happened. This did not scare as much as it motivated. If children were here, they needed the extra bodies for protection. Whether by only looking or by acting.

Introduce, hunt, take Alivia or Cinar. Half-echoed if only for her memory's sake. Not that she imagined she'd particularly forget this interaction. The way it had started and now how it bound them together under one thing.

Trailhawk of Redhawk.

Thank you. She offered and extended a paw in the small, rain-dampened space between them. It did not need to be reciprocated but she wished to show that she meant her words. She would be here, she would help.

So many scenarios wanted to play out in her mind, though they had tortured her enough over the past several days. If Killdeer had been killed and eaten by a larger apex predator—her theory for Maxim’s own vanishing—then they might never know. And living through that lack of closure again was an intolerable thought.

Towhee stared at the paw extended out to her, eyes shifting up to catch Trailhawk’s words. She wasn’t entirely sure what was expected of her, yet she was suddenly even more grateful, because the oddity of the gesture had jarred her out of her thoughts. She even huffed a little breath, though it wasn’t quite a laugh.

After the storm eases up a bit, I’ll show you the way, Towhee said, her words punctuated by a throb of light and noise as she briefly touched her own paw to the newcomer’s.

She slumped back then, letting the fruit tree take her weight. She cast her eyes out to the tempestuous world beyond the shelter of the tree, drawing in deep breaths of muggy air. The wind kicked up a few notches, billowing the rain in sideways curtains and sending a mist over the two wolves hunkered beneath the tree.

Towhee knew she should probably try to make conversation—get to know the new recruit a bit better—but all she could do was let her head thunk against the bark as her eyes slipped shut. Her face was already wet, so she didn’t bother worrying about the hot tears that oozed out from beneath her eyelids and streaked down her peppered cheeks.

i had an emotional call and dumped those excess emotions into this post, sorry for the wall of nonsense LOL

She allowed herself to simply exist, to feel. The weight and wind of the storm. The grief that she now allowed herself to help shoulder. She had said she would stay, even in this tumultuous time for the Redhawk clan. There would be no regret in her heart for this. Yet she could not allow herself some grand ceremony for finding a place to lay her head.

Not when she knew so much must be done now.

The hunting, the searching.

She said nothing now. Only felt the presence of Towhee Redhawk at her own paw, now, too. It was good to be reminded that despite the terrible ways of nature, that they could have moments of peace and comfort with one another. Even with the ugly turning of the storm that now whipped its winds to mist and spray them as if they stood oceanside.

The tears were missed by Trailhawk who continued her silent pressence.

Yet she felt the heaviness of the moment all at once. Her own eyes closed for a moment even when the world wished to brighten so much with its lightning strikes. How symbolic, how cruel.

She did not believe in fate — but maybe the world working in its mysterious ways was enough.

The rolling thunder was loud and close enough to vibrate through her being, to almost feel like it shook the tree at their backsides. For a moment she contemplated the safety in the fruit tree. Surely if it had stood this long it was not its first summer squall. All the same she opened her eyes and looked up to examine the leaves that trembled from rain and wind.

Her paw, as much as it could, clenched softly at the Redhawk's own.

She could not explain how this moment — the storm, the grief — made her feel like a child all over again. Sheltered with a mother away from the worst of the world.

She had no idea she’d fallen asleep until she jerked awake, her eyes crusty and a crick in her neck. Towhee rotated it as she blinked into proper consciousness, eyes focusing on her pale companion for a second before shifting outward. The storm had passed, the rainfall slackening to a mist that made the summer air feel like a jungle.

Let’s, she tried to say, only to realize her tongue was practically glued to the roof of her mouth, which was painfully dry. Let’s get going, Towhee tried again, hoisting herself onto all fours with a series of cracks and pops.

The Deputy paused to rub at her face, then set all four feet on the ground and ducked out from beneath the fruit tree. The mist clung to her, though she scarcely paid it any attention. Feeling decidedly half-dead, she led Trailhawk to the nearby slope to begin the ascent.

Feel free to wrap this!

Like all things, the storm came to pass.

The reminder of it was the damp trees, water dripping off leaves and the jungle-like humidity that lingered. The water, too, clung to her own coat now. Summer had never been her favorite season even if it was easier to flourish in. The wake of the storm left a tiredness in her bones.

It meant no more distractions and no more of nature's lullaby.

It was time to go. To begin again and help restore things where she could. She nodded and offered a wave of her tail once. Keen to take off at the Redhawk's own pace. Mental notes of the land made as they went off together deeper into the territory.