Silvertip Mountain Guide me great wisdom

Unaware that Comet didn't have a clue who he was actually looking for, FitzDutiful set out as the bird took to the sky. It had seemed a rather unsteady take-off and he didn't want to be anywhere near in case the bird fell back to earth again. How they managed to keep themselves in the air in the first place was unknown to him and it was a rather odd, scary, mystery. FitzDutiful preferred having his feet firmly on the ground.

Racing, he rushed to White Fish River as fast as his feet would carry him. He looked around, searching under the bushes and running his nose and tongue over various rocks and stones. There was no sign of her. It was highly possible that he had just gone in the complete wrong direction. He had expected some whiff of scent, some indication of the direction she had gone in. A paw print, a broken twig, anything to help him track but it appeared nothing was going to be all they caught.

His eyes turned to the sky, looking for where the bird was. Which part of the river edge had he wanted to meet up at? There was so much of it and the gesture had been so vaguely that FitzDutiful just stayed put, hoping that the bird's memory was as long as theirs and he wouldn't forget the mission they were on. Maybe Comet had seen something from up high.