The Heartwood things lost to the flames

Fire. Perhaps that was why Varick seemed so disconcerted upon entering the barren forest. Fire, and death. His convoluted tale of family, duty and revenge was to her as tangled as vines, but she did her best to listen closely, giving him the same courtesy he had given her.

"Now you're here," she echoed, looking at him intently. "You were a warrior." Still is, she noted, taking in his powerful large form.

Miyako touched her nose to his shoulder in empathy. "And I'm sorry for your loss, as well," she added, pulling back and gazing into his bright blues. "I wasn't very fond of my own dad. . .but it's still hard, and weird, to lose a parent, no matter how you feel." And the way Varick spoke of his father suggested Charlemagne was a much greater wolf than Hiroto ever could have been.

"Your brother. . .you said he disappeared. Have you been looking for him?"