Some weeks ago she had come along these passes with Arturo on one side and Sirius between them. It had felt like sending her boy to a firing squad. The had survived together and Hemlock was grateful for it, but now, another tragedy. Losing Roarke was like losing one of her own and while she had not carried nor birthed any children it made her heartache no less.

She had told Arturo and Lotte that she was going to pass through the mountains, giving strict orders for Sirius to stay with the other children and their sitter while she was out. As Oifigeach her duties were not much more but they were none the less important and she was taking a break from the borders for the sake of combing the mountain range that loomed above them for any sign of her godson. 

She howled loudly, crying out over and over again for him. Desperately she listened, ears twitching as she hoped to hear his responding cry. Dawn was just breaking and Hemlock wanted to keep hope alive; she wouldn't stop until they had answers. 

There was a sound nearby. It wasn't what Hemlock expected to hear; no doubt if Roarke had heard her he would have answered her with gusto. Instead, this was a pitiful sort of wailing, not unlike the way that she had cried her devastations out into the world. Hemlock was quiet as she tracked the sounds, coming upon a puppy that seemed to have seen the worst of the world. Hemlock let out a soft crooning sound, something she'd reflexively begun to do between Sirius and her godchildren. If Roarke was here, she would have done the same to him. 

She neared the child and sniffed it over, finding no blood amidst the proverbial cloud of dust trailing over the puppy. "Oh little pigpen," She murmured softly, "What has happened to you?" There was no way a child so young managed to get up to the View; not with it's rough edges and steep rises. With a soft sigh Hemlock laid down, gently nudging the child closer to her abdomen and some warmth. 

 

The puppy didn't hesitate and Hemlock was grateful, gently cleaning off the puppy's face once she was nestled close enough. It was hard not knowing how young she was to know if she was properly eating meat but she didn't remember Sirius speaking much until after he was fully transitioned. Hemlock gave a little nod, although she wasn't certain what the child was saying entirely - something about her father, she surmised. "It is alright, Sweetheart. We can get you taken care of." 

The options seemed clear. Despite the little deformity she had noticed Hemlock she did not consider it a death sentence - she had seen plenty of wolves with grave injuries do fine. One of the elders in the tribe lost his front leg to battle and he had been fully capable of his duties, refusing to be coddled. "My poor sweetheart - do you know your name?" Hemlock didn't recognize beneath the dirt the pack scent that was the same as Olive and her family; even if she had, it would have been like leading Ran to the slaughter to bring her back to Moonspear.