Phoenix Maplewood fragments of memory

Aw!^^

Trekking through lands as unclaimed as she, there seemed to be no end to Siofra's travels. No long period of rest. However, formerly gripped by both fatigue and hunger, the woman's appearance now gleamed with a new vitality. The look of one who had finally risen above the extremes of the wilderness. Finality had begun to frost over the wound of history...but she still clung stubbornly to the role of a spectator. Even so, a reborn resolve was evident upon her features. As the light yielded to darkness, the chill which followed in its wake did not rattle her as harshly as it once had. Though...she was still far, far from comfortable. 
She was a moving shadow, a whisper of ebony among the forestry. The howl of winds echoed throughout the canopy overhead. Within every unknown landscape, Siofra was anchored by an undying purpose: the endless chase of the sun's rise and fall. A self-given quest with little meaning...but, if she were to stay still for too long, the faces of the past would catch up to haunt her. That was the only thing she feared now that solitude had finally begun to feel more natural. 
Siofra slowed her pace, her ears tilting forward. Dark irises traced the outline of her surroundings. A gentle drizzle had started to fall heavens. The conditions weren't ideal...but her journey would stretch into the night, her sight drawn steadily southward.

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.