Shimmering Sands [m] Hosts of the Air

He'd lost the scent. There had been little enough to follow in the first place, but by now, he'd been tracking only a prayer for several hours. He turned and began taking the long way home, knowing that he had to check in but unwilling to leave any stone unturned. He searched even now, hopeless but still hoping.

A voice broke through his concentration. He lifted his head, and his dark ears swiveled in search of the source of the sound. It took him a long moment to realize he'd recognized the voice, though he could not yet put a name to it. The accent, at least, was one that he knew well.

Dutch lifted his head to give a brief howl, hoping the man would recognize his voice in turn. Then he hurried forth, picking up the pace to meet up with someone he knew must be a friend.

And then, picking up a decidedly more familiar scent, the panther charged ahead.

"Seelie!" he shouted, his heart pounding.