Whitefish River you and me and the devil make three

It was growing harder to spot the blood in the snow, and sometimes his scent would waft away, leaving the shadow roving the meadow until she found it again, setting back onto the trail with relief. Thus far, she'd not seen a body, and she'd been following his trail relentlessly, neglecting to hunt in the fear that she'd lose it. 

And yet she lost it all the same, somehow leaving it in the dark of night. She whirled, concern already bubbling up as she paced back the way she'd come, nose to the ground as she searched. She'd never been the best tracked, and unknowingly she passed over the faded trail twice as she searched, desperation having her pick up the pace, ignore the thirt burning in her throat and the the demanding hunger in her gut.

He headed back north after meeting the red-coated girl in the plains, his path uncertain and meandering. He originally had headed for Redhawk but had been turned around, gotten lost, and felt stuck in the center of the Flatlands with no clear direction. Every wolf he spoke to he felt the need to fight while hunger gnawed at the fringes of his sanity. Self-doubt barred him from joining a pack along with the sting of Rannoch's betrayal reminding him of the risks. So he sought out the only friend he knew.

Unbeknownst to him, someone else was searching for Titmouse, too. Albeit, the girl's own hunt was tinged with a degree of desperation, where Redshank was somewhat more lackadaisical about it. If he found his kinda-sorta-not-really bud, then he guessed that would just be a happy, semi-deliberate coincidence. What the boy really needed was some sense of familiarity, someone he could trust so he could survive the winter.

He had followed a frozen river for hours now, ever increasing exhaustion causing him to stop and rest. Frustration rose as a snarl in his throat, but he quietened he spotted a dark figure loping ahead, nose to the ground, seemingly on the prowl for...something. Thinking she had found the trail of prey, the boy urged his aching legs forwards, ears pricked in interest.

The dull ache in her chest returned as, unknowingly, the girl wandered further and further from the trail, until she paced circles in the snow. Frustration peaking, she hissed through her teeth; wondering if in this too, she would fail. It was then that the star-kissed girl whirled to face the imposter, ears pushed forward against her crown and hackles prickling with the dread and the frustration of her senseless task being interrupted by this bold boy. 

Stiffening, the girl glared at the boy, frustration boiling over into anger. what do you want,  demanded every fibre of her being as she stared him down, moss-green gaze burning.

The girl suddenly pivoted and faced him with a ferocity he had gotten quite used to receiving from other loners, and Redshank flattened his ears in an attempt to appear as a non-threat. It was uncharacteristic of him and, if circumstances had been different, he would have demanded why the girl dared show such attitude. However, the two were at the mercy of winter and he could see she was struggling just as much as he. Getting into a brawl over pride would just be a waste of precious energy.

The query in her flashing emerald gaze was not missed, and Redshank's own tail lashed at his hindquarters hopefully as he gestured at the trail she had been following — food?

The male gestured, silent and yet questioning. It was after a moment that she made sense of his unsaid question, and she shook her head. "no. I'm looking for someone." The blunt words fractured the silence of the meeting and the turmoil of her thoughts, and a moment later she put voice to the heavy weight of failure she'd only added to a much larger pile.  "it doesn't matter; I've lost the trail." Her words were bitter, and she supposed the said them only to put voice to her failure, admit this to a random stranger. 

She looked back over the plain, the wandering loop of tracks, some of which belonged to her, and she supposed, some which belonged to Sceech. She blinked exhaustion from her gaze, half hoping the male would simply leave so she could continue her futile quest, attempting to find the long faded trail she'd followed up to this point only by the thicker scent of blood he'd left behind.