To Rowan's surprise (and perhaps disgust) anger gripped him as he loped forward, his paw steps heavy while his stride was quick. His dust-coated ruff bristled, unable to force it flat. The howls still rang in his ears, though however many times he heard it the yearling still hated to think it was true. How could this had happened? Who could have - would have - done it? The Attaya boy had nothing but disbelief for the theory that young Deacon could have gotten out of their borders on his own. But it was true, his scent no where to be recollected, the eldest Archer-Lyall was missing. The fact left a horrible taste in his mouth that he could not swallow.
His muted gold gaze slid between the two subordinate Archers and his Leaders as he arrived. The air was full of anxiety, so thick he could hardly breathe it, but he tried to calm his breaths any way. He slicked his dark ears against his head, too riled to find the words for an appropriate greeting. He stood tall but unimposing, gritting his teeth though it could not keep his worry from reflecting in his stare. On the air he could smell Skoll's recent departure. It made him glad to know the search was already under way, but he still hoped to offer his own involvement. Rowan wasn't sure what he could do, but his presence made it clear he was at their disposal.