Felltree Marsh the heron's legs.

Mireille!

Sobo's voice cracked at the tail end of his call, but where he might otherwise have winced, now he was so consumed with singular purpose, he didn't notice. He stalked over the frozen wetland, clambering over trees that toppled long ago or going around them when he could. He swung his head this way and that, eyes peeled for anything remotely red-furred on the horizon.

Mireille had not rallied to the tunnel during the storm and had not been seen since. Sobo was worried sick and unable to rest until he found her. There was no way she was lost for good. Absolutely no way. His frantic movements would betray that he was searching for something if his hoarse voice did not.

Mireeeille!

she supposes this place would be a mess in warmer weather. as it was, the cold had locked in the muck, and the smell that came with it. it is merely a dilapidated wasteland, now, and there's no love in Avicus's gaze as she surveys it from the edge of the rise, pissing upon each stump and fallen log that marks the border.

"MEEER-AYYYYYYY!"

her head jolts up, the last of her stream hitting the snow ground with a muffled hiss. shaking herself briefly, she picks her way carefully through the marsh, ducking under bits of trees caving in under heavy snow.

a dark figure appears before her, barely visible against the dim-lit place—so invisible that if there was any familiarity about him, Avicus can't pick it up.

and yet— why you yell? she inquires crossly, but her nostrils are already flaring. his scent. . .

When a red head ducked under the log in front of him, Sobo's heart underwent a series of acrobatics. It soared on seeing familiar red fur, then stuttered when his blue eyes met indigo, not granny smith green, and swooped nervously at the realization that this was not Mireille, but a stranger.

He shuffled back a few steps, ears tipping forward with interest despite his shy nature when her words came out somewhat garbled. He understood what she said, but there was something off about it. Sobo ought to recognize Avicus from her time in Sapphique, but on account of both his shyness and Avicus' past reticence, he simply had not committed her face or even her scent to memory.

She did not sound pleased. Sobo let himself feel a flare of indignation. He could shout whenever he liked! He was still a rather shy wolf who backed up another few steps and lowered his ear and tails, but his voice came out a little clipped when he swallowed his nerves and replied: I be lookin' for my sister. Mireille. She looks a lot like ya do.

as she gets closer, she notices the dark mask against creamy fur and everything clicks. Sapphique. he's the spit of Erzulie, with some ruddy points thrown in for good measure. 

she must have met him, then. . . everything from her healing time there is hazy.

but he's looking for a sister, which means her former pack is missing a young one of their own.

when 'hhee go? Avicus asks, snapping from wariness to concern. leaving Sapphique is one of her great guilts, apart from leaving her mother. it has plagued her since she had headed south to face the Moonwoman.

He was quite surprised when Avicus’ manner changed from a wary stranger to something better approximating a worried packmate. He didn’t think she had any reason to care, and still could not remember the reserved red wolf who was there the day he and his siblings met the pack, and who had swiftly left.

Um, he stammered, thinking back to when the storm was. It was all kind of a blur now. A week ago, I t’ink? Dere be a big storm an’ she never came home after dat. There were a lot of possibilities hidden in his wavering voice. Some good, but most dark and hard to think about.

her teeth are gritted as he speaks. a storm. she should have been there. the guilt rises, but she tamps it down; it does no good. she cannot turn back time and help.

i know your ma, Avicus says. i will 'hhlook for Mireille. your name?

it's a guess; there's no guarantee he's Erzulie's. but damned if he doesn't resemble the woman, and he smells of the sea. if she cannot be of any other service to Sapphique but this, she will seize upon the chance with alacrity.

There was nothing Avicus could have done. Nothing any of them could have done. If it was possible to reach into the storm and pluck a wolf clean out of it, then Erzulie and Rosalyn would have done exactly that. Even knowing all this, Sobo experienced a moment of shared guilt with Avicus. He should have been with his sister.

He blinked back at the red she-wolf. Ya know Erzulie? Or be it mamá Rosalyn? He was curious to know how she had come to know his mothers. He had a niggling sense that perhaps he had seen her before, now that she mentioned it, but could not unearth any specific memory.

We would appreciate it if ya keep an eye out an’ let us know at Sapphique if ya see her, he said on a pleading breath. His nerves from moments before had quieted for the time being, for which he was grateful. My name be Sobo. What be yours?

bohh', she replies, and her eyes soften even more, muzzle lifting in some semblance of a smile. she nods solemnly at his request, taking it to heart. requests from Sapphique are no small thing.

Sobo, she thinks, trying and failing to remember him from her short time at the sea. Avi, the red woman says in return. i will 'hlook for her.

the two part ways shortly thereafter, with Avicus hoping fervently that the siblings would soon be reunited.

and she thinks that, perhaps, she is due for a visit to her rescuers.