Lake Rodney if you never try you certainly won't succeed

Hemlock's plight troubled Andalusia, but she could add only silence, for she, too, had seen nothing of a lost boy travelling near the Caldera. And even if she had, the lead would be stale. News like this helped little in retrospect.

She nodded when Sebastian prompted for details, eager for the healer to share more of her godson, so the two could keep their eyes open for him as well. They had a name, foreign enough to be useful, but to have an image to look for - that would prove invaluable. Names always seemed to slip from her like silverfish.

Andalusia expected Sebastian to offer the same to Hemlock, but a weightiness filled his voice and when he fell silent, she caught his look, and the sadness in his eyes, and those combined were enough to prompt her to jump in: "Nova - that's his daughter, say, three seasons or so?" She glanced at Sebastian, allowing a pause for him to correct or confirm, before she continued, "Well, she's got earthy hues to her - browns and tans, with a bit of your brightness at points" - she gestured to the ruddyness of Hemlock with her nose - "and a very creamy underside. Pearl's his mate, and quite small and very white." But at this point Andalusia squinted, and she strained to remember if Pearl had had any distinguishable markings which the Ostrega could mention. But Andalusia hadn't spent the short time she'd had with the mother paying attention to that. Oh well. Sebastian could always correct her, and she trusted he, of all wolves, would know any significant details much better than she.