Heron Lake Plateau Let's give this bad boy a test run.

The journey had been exhausting in a way that had taken Fin by surprise. She had made countless excursions like this throughout her lifetime and never had they been so wearing on her. She did everyting she could to show no signs of this, but by the time the group landed at the Plateau, she had called the charade quits. The injury she'd sustained in the fight with Blackfeather screamed in protest at her overuse and she gave up on trying to battle the limp it demanded.

Another wolf may have supposed that this was just another facet of their advanced age. Fin blamed the children she'd had to carry all this way. Children she loved, but children she really wished would've just magically been six months old the morning they'd left. No such luck. The pup she dropped at her paws was just a little turnip, as was the little boy that was shortly placed beside him. Fin dropped to her haunches beside them, blinking wearily at their surroundings without noticing much. She was so tired. Her leg hurt too terribly. She was spent.

Or, she thought she was, until the sudden arrival of her long lost nephew.

Fin shoved herself back up onto all fours, standing protectively over her boys. Her hackles raised as she looked between Titmouse, his friend, and her children. She had long ago written this particular Redhawk off as lost, ever since he had returned from Blackfeather, clearly brainwashed. He had abandoned them in their time of need and Fin had been relieved to see him go, truth be told. To see him here just when she'd begun to think this whole mess might be over was highly unwelcome.

Fin kept quiet in the larger conversation, seeing as Clover did a beautiful job of saying everything she otherwise would have. Her words were for only Colt, and to him she growled a low warning, "Shut it, jack ass." She was wound too damn tight for his sass.