Cedar Sweep hope

Weejay blanched as they came upon the rubble; she had dreaded this day, but she dared not let her father see it.  Adopting a look of what she hoped was cheery hope, Weejay fell behind her father and (what if he's under the rocks?) awaited his instruction. She wished fervently that any moment now they'd come across Elfie's scent - but that was wishful thinking, and she had learned a thing or two from Elfie about wishes, and fishes.

She nodded as her father suggested they circle around the strath. Pulling over a crumbled piece of stone, Weejay (what if I find his skeleton grinning back at me, trapped between two stones?) shook roughly and closed her eyes. No scent of Elfie here. Nothing at all but the stir of the wind and her father's footsteps. Stop. Weejay growled at her interal nagger, sucking in a deep breath as she began to comb through the ruins.