Sun Mote Copse mandatory hugs every time you walk through the door.

Figment hadn't been close to the elderly pair of wolves that had recently passed away, but their loss was still palpable within the pack. He'd met them, of course. Elwood had reminded him of Rannoch in his quiet kindness. Finley had... Well, Finley had made him a little nervous. There'd been something unpredictable about her, though he'd sensed her good heart underneath it all. Meeting them both had immediately helped him understand where many of Towhee's traits had come from. He had liked them. Enough to not like that they were no longer here in spite of how their loss had hurt his parents, which he also didn't like.

As often happened in dark times like these, Fig didn't know what to do. He was innately compelled to want to fix everything and make everything better, but this was one of those situations where there just didn't seem to be a. He preferred to take a more active role in his caretaking, but he could recognize that in this situation, only time would really do the trick.

So, he put himself to his usual work--marking borders and keeping an eye out for Fenn. He was doing the former that morning when a scent on the wind came across his senses. Fig paused and peered out into the Wilds just beyond their borders at a small hillock where it seemed the scent might be coming from. Curious, the nearling decided to pause his patrol and trotted out towards the hill.

In only a few minutes, he was cresting the hill and looking down at a wide patch of white flowers that blanketed the downward sweep of the land. He considered them thoughtfully for a moment before stepping into their midst to sniff at them. The scent was pleasant and they looked nice enough. Perhaps there actually was a more direct way he could help, if only in a very small way. Fig smiled faintly as he began to move through the patch, seeking out the best blossoms to pluck and take to his mother.