Porcupine Ridge you only live forever in the lights you make

Poet showed up faster than he anticipated--she was good at that, being right where she needed to be in a flash. He shrugged, shaking his head frantically. "I don't know," he burst out, breath hitching in his throat. "I--I think so. I just found him here, lying still." He nosed at Cortland's golden pelage, head swimming in the chaos. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing it could all be a dream.

He watched Poet examine the boy, eyes boring into her every move. "We need to get him back to Silvertip, somehow," he said hollowly, knowing that it would not be an easy task. Between the two of them, they could do it. . .but what if something was wrong with his neck, his spine? They would have to be gentle, and that was no easy task when toting someone up a mountain. Perhaps if they stayed toward the base. . .

"How does he look?" Phocion asked, his voice anxious. "Will he. . ." Survive? the small, mocking voice in his head finished the question.