Hoshor Plains Don’t love me like you promised to

She too didn't see the searching man.
She had finished licking some warmth into Arwen's poor, soaked coat.
She needed to give up...and find somewhere to rest and warm-up.
She wished she had a pack.

A male voice very close to her dipped, searching head made her jerk up, bristling instantly.
He was apologising, shit. Her hackles softened, then she heard the words searching.
A gust of wind dragging a long tendril of rain washed over her. Surely this will be the last storm.
"For what? A child? Have you seen my son?" She stepped forward, eager to find out. Hell, she'd hold this man over the edge of a cliff if he didn't tell her anything.
"He would have come back. Someone mush ave him," her desperate eyes searched him for recognition. Realisation. Her coat the same as his. The possibility that some lost child he'd found in his search was hers.