Redhawk Caldera i wait by the door like i'm just a kid

Sylvie missed her mommy. She'd spent a lot of time regretting not going to the big hunt and wondered how it was going and how many new friends Mommy had made. Although she wasn’t a fan of hunting, a part of her regretted not going; the FOMO she felt was too much, and she just wanted to be with her mommy.

She drifted through Brechilant's territory like a sad, lonely rain cloud whenever she'd managed to get out of bed, going from one mindless activity to the next to try and keep her mind off of things.

Winter came, and it was gentle. The things his parents had told him of winters past had made him worried, and wary that it might grow to cold, or the snow might fall too thick and powdery. Concern still dogged him- a thing that he'd known known in his earliest days. Now he knew a fear linked to survival, and it made him grow more distant from the others. 

He invested his time in hunting, and felt a bit of his anxiety pass with each successful kill. One step closer to survival, he thought. Risks were not worth the chance that something could happen and cut his life short. He chose to only hunt creatures that would not likely pose a threat, but found that even the smallest ones still had a sharp bite. 

A mouse had managed to nip one of his toepads when he had pounced it, landing one foot into the snow on either side of it. As he walked now, one pawprint for each pace left behind a small spot of bright red blood. He considered trying to find Eljay, but figured he ought to toughen up, at least a little bit. A mouse bite wasn't something that would merit medical attention. 

So he wandered, and the cool snow felt good against his throbbing pawpad. Eventually, it numbed, so he couldn't even feel the little perforation. 

When he spotted Sylvie, his first instinct was to meander in another direction...But then he reconsidered. Sylvie was never too much. Often, she was more sombre than anything- and he found that attitude appealing. Not too cheery, not likely she would demand too much attention. He approached, tail swinging gently. "Hey Sylvie," he uttered quietly, ears planing so she would know he wasn't going to be the pain-in-the-ass he'd once been.

Ponyboy, who'd grown considerably since the last time they'd spoken, approached with a wagging tail and splayed ears, a vast departure from his former self. She smiled gently, her tail wagging in tandem with his. Oh, h-hey, Ponyboy, she said, looking him up and down and noticing the blood trail he'd left behind.

Are you o-okay? she asked with concern as she motioned towards the ground with a forepaw.

There was something inviting about her timidity. Her greeting was calm, a bit shy- and it put his mind at ease to have company that was chill. She noticed the bloodspots in his pawprints, and he dropped the corners of his mouth, and shook his head to dismiss any surplus of concern. "Just a mousebite," He said reassuringly. A smile bled into his words, and lifted his lips; it was nice that she cared. 

"What are you up to?" He asked. He didn't intend to invite himself along, and asked the question with genuine curiosity.

Just a mousebite? She frowned at his dismissive nature, her eyes focusing on it as she nibbled on her bottom lip. A-Are you sure? You don't want it to get infected, she said. We can go see my d-daddy, and he can make sure it's all good and cleaned up.

When asked what she was doing, she looked around and shrugged as if to say: "Nothing, just this." I guess I was just walking around ... I-I've been pretty lonely since Mommy went to t-the big hunt. She paused briefly and then wondered: Why didn't you go? T-That seems like something you m-might've enjoyed.

He pulled his lips tight to keep from frowning. He knew Sylvie hadn't forgotten about his father, and that his death meant that Ponyboy had already learned hard lessons about infections. He told himself she was genuinely just a bit concerned...Probably more than she needed to be, but she would be forgiven for it nonetheless. He lifted his paw, to show the tiny, red spot on his greyish pawpad. The snow had cooled it, and had quelled any inflammation that might have. "It's fine," He said gently. "The snow actually feels good on it." He admitted. 

Like him, she seemed to be sticking around pretty close in spite of the opportunity to go and hunt with numerous other packs. He shrugged. "Nah, I didn't feel like it," He said. "I kinda just wanted to stick around," for Mom, he thought. A bit of sadness had trickled into his voice and his eyes, so he did his best to hide it with a change of topic. "Wanna look for something around here, to eat?" He asked.

Sylvie's anxiety often got the better of her and caused her to not think things through before speaking. She didn't consider that Bronco had died of infection and that his children would be hyper-aware of such things. She simply wanted to ensure that he was fine, and by the looks of his injury, he was. O-Okay, she said, dropping the subject once she'd thoroughly inspected it.

From her understanding, their reasons for staying home were similar. Still, there was a sudden sadness about him that she couldn't place with the context he'd given her, and she could not read between the lines. Although she loathed hunting, she wanted to make him happy and quickly agreed to join him. S-Sure! she said, already regretting her decision and cursing her people-pleasing tendencies. I'm not that good, s-so hopefully I don't get in the way.