Hideaway Strath looking for you

When they both let him know, in no uncertain terms, that they didn't know of any Stark or his whereabouts, Tambourine offered a sad but unsurprised, "Oh, that's okay. Yeah, he's my dad." He listened, then shook his head sadly, his bent ear flapping a little. "No, I haven't. I'm sorry." How strange that they should both be out here searching for someone, although that explained the mention of a scouting mission.

He would have loved to stick around and chat a while but Tambourine wasn't feeling as sociable as usual, for likely obvious reasons, and he intuited that the pair probably wanted to be left alone to resume their own search. "I should get back—home," he said, stumbling a little over that word: home. Golden Glade didn't feel that way at all. "I hope you find him," he added, offering them a smile and shifting his toes when he noticed the male staring at them.

With a little dip of his head, the youth spun carefully and made his way back toward the river. He wasn't looking forward to crossing, yet he knew he needed to get back to the glade soon, else he might lose more toes or possibly something even more important.