Heron Lake Plateau omens in the clouds

@Quixote! Other tags are for reference. :)

Weeks had passed, with still no hide or hair of @Fire to be found. Raven had relied more on @Eljay, @Niamh, @Towhee, and any others willing to puppysit for her than she ever had before as she relentlessly combed the lands surrounding their plateau for any sign of her friend. Each day that she came back with nothing to show for her efforts put another crack in her heart. She loved the Blackthorn with an intensity that surprised her. "You never fully appreciate what you have until it's gone" -- no statement had ever been more true than that one, and it ran through Raven's thoughts with maddening repetition each day that she searched fruitlessly for a tuft of fur, a pawprint, a faint whiff of scent -- anything that might tell her what had become of Ceara.

Some scenarios had crossed her mind. Had Ceara given up on the Redhawks? Had her unrequited love for their alpha female finally driven her to seek happiness someplace else? Had she had a falling-out with someone and left without saying goodbye? All of these explanations were plausible but none of them really added up. Raven believed that the bond they shared was too strong for the fiery she-wolf to simply walk away without a word.

One word kept coming to the forefront of her thoughts, and it was the one explanation that actually made sense: Blackfeather. They were lurking near the Redhawks' lands again, and Ceara had already turned up injured once. All she could think was that they'd somehow come back and gotten ahold of her, taken them back to whatever accursed hellhole it was where they liked to torment their victims. A dark, lurid rage simmered deep down inside of her as she sought out her mate now. Her mind was all but made up, but she wanted him on board for it too.

She wended her way through the trees surrounding their rendezvous site, anticipating that Qui would be there with the pups. If not, then one of their sitters might be able to point her in the direction of her always-busy beloved.

With Ceara gone, he'd felt there really wasn't much else that he could do about it that everyone else wasn't already doing.  There were a number searching, but she hadn't been brought back to the pack.  What else were they to do?  They were isolated out here -- to go on a wider search meant being gone for longer, possibly passing each other en route without realizing and possibly just changing whoever the missing person was.  It just wasn't a good situation.

He'd just taken the whole lot of kids off on a short adventure to learn more about prey in the area.  It had been a pretty mixed bag, but maybe he had transferred some knowledge into the rambunctious pups but he'd have to have a second trip with them to see if it stuck.  Next time if any of you want to come on patrol, you can just ask.  It's pretty boring though, I warn you.  But by then they'd pretty much stopped paying attention to him and were babbling among each other.

He flopped down on his side, and was pretty content to just hang out and watch then, but that was about when Raven came into view.  He started to sit back up, wagging his tail.  There was no question that Ceara's disappearance affected her much more than it had him -- it wasn't like their conversations had been particularly noteworthy, after all -- but he would support her in whatever ways he could.

The puppies ran toward her in a horde of excitement and silliness, and she couldn't help laughing as they surrounded her. No amount of anger and heartache could prevent them from putting a smile on her face. She took a moment to greet each kid, tousling fuzzy heads, playfully nipping tails, and rolling one or two of them over onto their backs with a swipe of her paw. When the frenzy calmed, she grinned up at her mate and commented, "Jeez. You'd think they'd be tired after scouting with you." She approached him and greeted him with kisses on his dark face, feeling the ever-familiar electric tickle in her chest that she always felt at the sight of him. Their life had been so idyllic and perfect -- why did circumstances always have to change that? Why couldn't Blackfeather just leave them alone?

Thinking of the name brought her elation down a notch, and she sat down next to where he lay as the pups dispersed to play amongst themselves. A glance around revealed that they'd already wrought ample destruction on the shrubbery around the rendezvous site, and she grinned. Growing pups were such a force of nature. Her thoughts never strayed far from keeping them safe, and it was with that in mind that she looked at Quixote with weary somberness in her golden eyes. "I think Blackfeather took Ceara," she said, deciding to get straight to the point. "Last time I saw her, she mentioned they were lurking around. They beat her up, and now she's gone. That's their pattern."

He was glad that at least not everything was bad, that the pups could try to alleviate some of the weight without much effort on their part.  Yeah you would think but I swear, you think you've got 'em worn down and then they find a second wind under a rock somewhere.  He nipped back at her, swiping a lazy but playful paw at her.  Yeah, days like this were pretty ok with him.  Sure, it wasn't perfect, but this was much more like what life was supposed to be like, right?

But then things shifted away from the peaceful atmosphere.  His ears twisted back and his voice lowered slightly -- it wasn't exactly a conversation he'd think the pups should pay attention to,  I'd kind of hoped that maybe with that new leader and having been beaten up pretty well that they'd get smarter, but...  He sighed, letting that drop before continuing on. I hope that she's off somewhere else.  We're so much farther from Blackfeather, we're basically in the same position Drageda was if hell breaks loose.  We aren't in as good of a position to do anything this time.  They were supposed to be far enough away that they wouldn't have to deal with them again.  They were supposed to be no longer on their radar -- just some distant monster.

But we've got Tegan and Rory out there looking farther from the pack, and I think X is helping too.  If she's heading back and feeling foolish about her travels taking her a bit farther than expected, we'll at least find her on her way back.  It was unlikely, sure, and though his uncertainty probably showed in his tone, he didn't want Raven to give up on a more peaceful answer.

As he spoke, she found some small measure of comfort in his words. It wasn't always like her to jump to the worst possible conclusion, but it did happen from time to time. Particularly when Blackfeather was anywhere in the picture. She hadn't fought in the war, but she'd treated the wounded and she'd seen first-hand how bad it had been. She didn't want more bloodshed or strife. She didn't want more conflict, she didn't want to have to move again. All she really wanted was for her and her packmates to be left the hell alone. Was that really so much to ask?

A grin flitted across her face and she touched his cheek with her nose. It was interesting, how they reversed roles sometimes. Usually it was Quixote who was a buzzing ball of stress and anxiety, coming to her for calming advice. This time, it was the other way around. Still, misgivings lingered in the back of her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that Ceara was locked up somewhere, harassed and tormented for the sick amusement of those twisted assholes. She kept flashing back to the memory of her sister, Wildfire, showing up broken and bleeding after escaping from those accursed woods. It wasn't a difficult connection to make -- Wildfire and Ceara looked a lot alike.

"I don't want to go toe-to-toe with those jerks again," she said softly after a moment of thought. "But I would if I had to. I'd go to war for Ceara. Hopefully Tegan and Rory -- maybe even X -- can bring us some answers soon." Not only was the Blackthorn one of the closest friends Raven had ever had, but she was a Redhawk too. Ceara was one of hers, and she would stop at nothing to protect her own.

Edited on a sort of conclusion on to it (basically just made the question a statement).  If you want to reopen the thread, just unarchive and LMK to reedit!

He still didn't understand why it was everyone seemed to have such a much different experience with Ceara than he did.  To him, she wasn't particularly remarkable.  She showed up, she'd maybe talk a bit, then more often than not she'd suddenly decide to leave.  He still had misgivings about what had happened with the trespasser, wondering if she'd really recovered from that.  From his perspective, her suddenly skittering off into the unknown didn't seem as out of character.  Maybe she just got cold feet about something again, but out of respect for his mate and anyone else who saw her as a good friend, he kept his opinions pretty much to himself.  They were doing plenty to make sure she was searched for that there was no need for him to add on to the list just to be kind.

But this was one of the things that was more in his wheelhouse.  He was sufficiently distanced from the subject, and it was a quest to do something.  That meant he had physical limitations to base things around, which kept him grounded in the world.  Honestly, he really did feel better when things were task-based and not so open-ended.  

Yeah, Quixote didn't think Ceara was quite worth going to war over, on the practical side of things.  But again, he'd keep his mouth shut.  He was pretty sure that asking how a war would work from here wasn't going to do anything productive.  If there's anything else I can do in the meantime, let me know.  He tipped his head towards her.  At the very least maybe he could do something to make the situation a little better.  Maybe.