Firefly Ravine rusted

The woman spoke what Buchanan assumed was a name, yet it was not one that the dark wraith knew of. It was unfamiliar to him. For a few seconds there was nothing, only the name that hung in the air between them before she began to explain, her tongue catching on the formation of her words in a stutter. The assassin's ears slicked back to half mast when she offered the tidbit that this Seff was her son, and that he was young. It felt as if a thick knot had formed itself in Buchanan's throat, making it hard for him to draw breath; because as she explained that she hadn't seen him in many days he was reminded of what had happened to him, of the parents that he must have had but could not remember, and of the little girl that The Officer had ordered him to kidnap. The boundary line that Buchanan had refused to cross.

The distraught mother gave him a description: tan with blue eyes. How could he tell her that he hadn't seen her son? It was the truth: he had not seen any wolf like that. As it was, the Marauder's were looking for their own missing wolves. She looked away from his quickly shortly after her voice had cracked and his tongue felt thick and heavy with the weight that he had to disappoint her. “I haven't met a child by that name. Neither have I seen one that fits your description,” He admitted softly, apologetically. The only child he'd met was Silas and in passing he glimpsed Tambourine though they had not officially met yet. “I'm sorry.” He added, swallowing thickly. Because he was. He was sorry for her and sorry that he couldn't offer her any word on her son.

“I may be able to help you look for him, though,” In a rare turn of events the assassin offered his skills to her. It was true that the Marauder's had sent their own search parties out for the missing Ostrega's but if she accepted it Buchanan did not think that it would hurt anything to assist her. He couldn't stand the thought of walking away from her without, at least, offering to help her. Tracking wolves was his specialty and though it thankfully transitioned well enough into herds and other small prey, he did not deny that he'd been trained to hunt down wolves. He had a description, name and something of a rough age to work with, and that was a good start. “No child should be without their mother and vice versa,” He spoke quietly, in a rough murmur in his deep voice. It was a touchy subject for him, admittedly. He had the questions ready to ask her, though held back upon them, waiting to see if he had her permission to assist her or not. It was easy to settle into “philanthropist assassin” mode wanting to help her even without knowing her. If he could help another child and another mother from suffering from what he and his unknown mother had faced than he was willing.