Lachesis did not know whether to be angry or upset at Lorcán’s absence. Was it an intentional disappearance or accidental? If it was intentional the tawny healer had left everyone out of the loop. Which only fuelled the fire burning inside the ghost’s chest. He was growing tired of wolves disappearing from his ranks. All he asked for was a simple explanation. He was a calm man and difficult to anger. If an explanation was given XIX would not be angry. Which was why he had graciously accepted Lekalta’s return (among other reasons). Aleksei’s recent departure, however, did not sit well with the Stark. Like a coward he had fled with nothing but a single howl announcing his leave. He did not even approach his mother or his siblings about his plan.  

At least he said good-bye.

Too many wolves in Lachesis’ life had vanished without a word, leaving a hole in his heart and words hanging in the back of his throat. However, as the trend continued, Lachesis grew colder and more indifferent. Trust was not something that came easy for the pale healer, which was why Lorcán’s absence was so unsettling.

After Lorcán left the rock in the north and sought a new home among the redwoods Lachesis had begun to trust the younger male. A friendship—he thought—had formed between them. Surely he would have came to XIX if he had needed to leave? Whether it was to be permanent or not, Lachesis would not have cared… he just wanted to know so he could stop worrying.

He stumbled upon a familiar scent but it did not belong to the healer. It appeared Lachesis had been following the scent of Lake through the Kingswood. Crestfallen, the ghost quickened his pace and caught up to the fiery-eyed male, his tail giving a low wave in greeting.

“Are you looking for him too?”

There was no point in hiding the frown that tugged at his lips when Laike responded. He had hoped that the Artemieva had an idea where his brother might have disappeared to. Lachesis could not help but fear for the worst; it was what he did best.

“Unfortunately no,” he answered grimly as his tail drooped, his brows knitting together as he met the tawny male’s troubled gaze. Things had been going well in Hearthwood with Lorcán as the ghost’s second; there was no reason for him to leave. Unless something had occurred without the leader’s knowledge. His frown deepened at the thought. Aside from maybe Aytigin, the healer had a good relationship with all of the river wolves—and XIX refused to believe that Lorcán would leave Heathwood over an altercation with the self-proclaimed casanova.

It was likely that the healer had gone out on a hunting expedition, or set off to collect herbs, and lost his way. If he had gone too far north he could have gotten lost in the realm beyond Lore.

The other possible explanation was that, on his expedition, the healer had gotten injured and was tending to his wounds before returning to the Kingswood.

Laike’s voice tore him away from his thoughts and the leader nodded solemnly in agreement. “Neither do I,” he sighed as he took a hesitant step forward. “Would you like some company? I was going to check out Turtleback and see if he went south.” The other Artemieva still remained a mystery to him, even despite their conversation in the Ethos. He had not gotten many opportunities to converse with the agouti, and while the situation was not ideal, it was still time spent with Laike. 

The pale leader returned the second’s smile with one of his own as he nodded, silently, and followed in beside Laike has he led the way to the lake. He was curious as to how the scarlet-eyed Artemieva was handling his brother’s absence, for the tawny guardian wore an unreadable mask. Laike was calm and stoic, choosing his words carefully and not overusing them, much like the ghost. Unfortunately it had taken the loss of his brother for the two wolves to bond. A frown tugged at his lips, his brows narrowing softly as he dismissed the thought.

How long would they search for him? Lachesis wanted to bring to healer back to Hearthwood, for it was where he felt like Lorcán truly belonged, but did the agouti want to be found? Had he chosen to leave the river on his own accord and burn a few bridges along the way? His frown deepened. The tawny healer had nearly been gone a month already—when would it be time to give up on the search? Would there be a time to give up?

The second’s question pulled him away from his thoughts, his features softening. “Pretty close,” he admitted after considering his response for a moment. He had considered Lorcán a friend, for they had always gotten along even when the healer called the monadnock his home. “I met him when he was still living in the lowlands. We would hunt for herbs together.” Lachesis hoped that they would continue to look for medicine together and that the absence was not permanent. Hearthwood needed Lorcán.