Cassiopeia's View had not yielded the results she craved and she was loathe to return to Lotte without Roarke. To see the desolation in her Banrion's face would break her heart anew. The loss of the winter's bane had made her reconsider Arturo's offer - if she was this distressed over a child that was her godson, not even her own, how could she face the trials of motherhood with any sense of confidence? Fear had crept into the healer's heart and though she wished to banish it she could not do so. 

The old thoughts, the old way of thinking, the things that Isley had been told time and time again by her mother made her fearful. What if someone had taken Roarke? What if some male had stolen away with their beloved boy? In reality, a stranger's kindness had kept him alive but he was stolen. Hemlock had navigated further from Teaghlaigh and the Hinterlands where his mother had searched and sang her song of sorrow until she could sing no more. 

In the distance was a large body of water and once she had realized it, Hemlock had taken off in a sprint towards the lake. She quenched her thirst before lifting her head at the lake's edge to sound off her howling cries again and again and again for their lost child. 

 

Hemlock was not alone for very long and while she had hoped that perhaps her cries might have carried to the wilds where her godson was missing she was not rewarded with the pale ghost of a boy. It made her worry if Sirius went missing, but, she had a feeling that she had put the fear of all the gods in him if he ran off. There was no way that she would let another puppy go missing. Not on her watch. She watched the other approach, cautious for a moment, but the approach wasn't out of malice. There was a certain understanding she felt, in such a raw pain. It went beyond the measure of packs and between even the separation of genders in her mind. No one would not be able to understand her pain.

"My godson, Roarke, has gone missing." Hemlock said quietly, her lips pressed tight together after she spoke as if trying to stop herself from saying anything else. This was a vicious truth. It hurt her to admit, it hurt her to experience, it hurt her in ways she had not thought was possible. Her one thought was to track and travel until she found him, like she had chased down the embodiment of death itself after losing Palisander, but she had obligations to her pack and her family that she could not blindly trail after the boy. 

"It has been a few days now, his parents, his siblings, we are all devastated."