Something akin to a fracas had swelled deep within the young Tainn's being. The initial inklings of it had been quelled by Ice's words a few months ago but now it had resurfaced. Instead of fear of the unknown, the pain of worry plagued his thoughts day in and day out for the past few weeks. It had begun when he noticed his father's lack of presence and availability. It pained him; for as often as he patrolled and kept along the paths that the Guardians had already laid out for him, it only made sense to the yearling that he would have at least caught the slightest glimpse of the River patriarch.

With Indru's absence, the promise of Angier Lyall's loyalty and service to the pack had fallen through and it had become apparent to Fenru that something had to be done. But what? He imagined it was useless to have the man affiliate with his family if he no longer pulled his own weight. Corinna, the pups, his family could not bear to look after someone other than his younger siblings. Especially if they were a skilled hunter just using Swift River's scent to protect himself. As he traveled along the trampled paths he tried to keep his head and tail high. After a few meters his lanky figure gradually sank downward. His father's return had brought to the pack a time of good tidings, the hope of better days, and even new siblings with the chore and purpose to look after them. He growled to himself, irritated that everything was just getting to him.

Why had Dad gone? Was there something more beyond his family that was worth caring for?

It troubled him, but somewhere in the depths of his mind, an idea sparked. His eyes lit up, searching the darkening forest around him. Rihael would know what to say, what to do. He sprinted through the Grove at a pace that ate up the ground and left bits of forest floor flying behind him. A searching bark sounded out through the trees as he ran towards the old den where he and littermates had been born, but as soon as he had reached his destination, it dawned on him that no one else had been there since his last visit. Two weeks ago. "Hael?" his deepened voice quivered with uncertainty, the mature tone almost sounding as though it had belonged to mere pup. He trotted to the old log where he and Kisla had usually played together when they were younger and tried again. "Hey Hael!" The sentiment was called out just as it had been when he was calling his brother out for a game of tag or some sort of adventure. But instead of the call being answered by the family member he sought out, it was Corinna's haunting howl that seemingly replied.

The boy's eyes widened and his head jerked in the direction the song had come from. Concerned beyond his wits, he set off again at a frantic pace. The cold wind whipped past him and bit at his eyes. By the time he came upon his mother's figure his fiery irises and dark pupils were glossed over and his brows were raised in distress. He had been so busy memorizing every inch of his family's territory and making sure that his sisters - Kisla, Aiyana, and Rissa - were well taken care of that he had not even noticed or bothered to check up on Corinna. A pang of guilt struck him; it had not even occurred to him that she was not well... with suspicions in the air and the stress of having to shoulder what her mate had left unattended to. He immediately rushed forth to press his face, the bridge of his muzzle and forehead into his parent's neck and shoulder. "It's okay, Mum. I'm here."

The first cry had chilled his blood.

She had left them, making sure that her daughters were safe with the pack before turning to go. Marsh had watched, silent, promising that he would watch them until she returned. Her children were safe with him. Corinna had turned to go, and he knew her intentions without anything needing to be said. He had noticed the fading scent as well as anyone else. It seemed a sad pattern was repeating itself.

But as much as it pained Corinna, Marsh was not equally troubled by the possibility of another of Indru's absences.

Patiently he had waited, sitting with Aiyana and Rissa as they played and contented themselves around the den. He was more distracted than usual, and yet more alert than ever before, with an ear always to the sky, waiting, waiting. He wanted nothing more than to hear that song of victory, of recovery, to announce that everything was okay. It was a misunderstanding, perhaps. They would be whole again.

She did howl. The fury and anguish tore his heart in two, and he knew.

His lip curled over his teeth, and for a moment he saw Indru's throat in front of him. Ever since the day the Tainn had shown how he truly felt about Marsh, who had always considered himself a loyal servant to their family, his love for the leader had starved. Now what little was left was shattered by this.

In place of grief for the loss of Indru, Marsh felt only cold fury. It was Torrel he mourned for, and Torrel who haunted Corinna's song.

Time passed, and she called again, weary and desperate and so close. Instantly he rose, huffing to her daughters that their mother would need them, stiffly marching ahead to lead the way. She would want her children, those left, to comfort her and show her that there was plenty to live for yet. Indru may have shown his true colours, and the pack may weep for the loss of their youngest son, but they had others to fight for. She would need her daughters. Onward he pressed, blinkered to all but Corinna's need, and when he arrived he saw - with relief - that Fenru had already answered that need.

By the edge of their forest he stopped, hesitant, wanting nothing but to comfort her but unsure whether his presence was as soothing as her own blood. Quietly he chuffed at her two youngest, encouraging them forward, but he held back. She would see him there, and if she wanted him closer, he would know. But she would see him, and she would know that he had come, that he was there.

She would know that he would always be there.