She was mid chase when an unfamiliar call at the borders brought Celandine's hunt to a halt. Sighing, she watched with bright eyes as the hare scampered into the undergrowth. It would live to see another day.

Her pale form weaved through the strange protruding rocks that made up their forest home, intent on finding the man who had called. Another loner to join? A message from a neighboring pack? Whatever it was, it had better be as good as the hare she'd lost. 

When his dark form appeared on the horizon, not even a single flick of recognition touched her features. "You called?"

Celandine cocked her head at the dark wolf's statement, giving him a once-over. He had the typical Archer looks, but that didn't necessarily mean that he had their blood. It did, however, give her enough of a reason to indulge in his quest. "Well, if you're here for Archers, you've found the right place." Morganna, Skoll, Niles, Sovanna, the kids. All of them. "And if not, we've got a few others. Want to tell me who you are, or who you're looking for?" If the stranger was told that he would find his family at the lagoon, then they were likely still here.

Celandine acknowledged his statement with a nod. They had more than enough Archers, and Archer Lyalls to go around. "Figures. It seems we've got a never-ending supply of those." Her honey-hued voice held a tint of sarcasm, but the tone wasn't unkind. She attempted to turn, her nose already tilted up at the sky to call for Morganna when his name fell into the air between them. For a single second she froze, her back still turned to the man.

Deacon? Confusion played across her delicate features as she turned back to meet his face. It couldn't be. Gods, Celandine hadn't even thought of him in years, let alone try to remember his face. "Greer's littermate?"

Indifference masked her features, and she considered him again. He confirmed that he was, indeed, the Deacon that she thought he was. "Oh." It wasn't her most eloquent moment, but truth be told, her mouth couldn't form any more than that. She might have asked him if he remembered her, might have asked him where he went. There were a million other things that Celandine might have done, but there was no need for any of that. Whatever she might have thought of Deacon, whatever she might have felt, it was long gone. The pale fae was no longer mad that he disappeared, and she wasn't hurt that he didn't seem to recognize her either. The past was, perhaps, better left where it was. "Alright. I'll.. call someone.. for you.." Tipping her muzzle to the sky, she called for any nearby Archer to save her from... whatever this was.