Phoenix Maplewood fragments of memory

it is a perilous search. the one for a missing child.
especially, when one's heart isn't fully in it.
no, blackfell does not want to find her. he would never voice it to morwenna, but he was sure it was visible in his eyes. those daunting crimson pools, eerie above all else; and devoid of all emotion when any of sun eater's spawn are discussed. no, they aren't his morwenna's.
if anything, they were her mistakes. now that they were gone, it should remain that way. it was better for them all: to leave the past where it belonged. in the past.
the shadow moves slow, lumbering, through the taiga still. because for all his pessimism, he is still loyal. such a trait that would drive him to his dying end, a loyal hound at the heels of his master.
there's a scent on the wind now. distinctly feminine, and blackfell is bid by aforementioned loyalty to pursue it. driving steel churning legs through fresh fallen powder snow and coming upon her soon after. but she does not wear that dark pelt of morwenna's daughter, and he huffs.
visible smoke clouding in the cold air from his agape jaws.