The trail the boy had left behind led her from the borders. It wasn't so strange for children to wander─she had certainly done her own fair share before ending up at Phineas' doorstep─but it made her no less anxious. They were each still so young in her eyes, and at such a tender age it was worrisome to think of what twists and turns the world would offer them when they did stray. Though she'd never known the dark child who had become one of them, Lucero's gut twisted as she paused to glance backward at the disappearing hills of the Glen, considering that she'd personally never known Hypatia or Kyros to leave the territory. In a bout of concern and brushing off the notion that boys would be boys, the leader hit the road as quickly as her limbs could carry her.

Red Fern Forest had all but lost its scarlet, summertime beauty. Weathered by the recent onslaught of heavy rains and autumn cold, it looked nothing like it had the last time she'd been there (which was unfortunate, because she didn't recognize her way around), and it didn't take her long to realize that the thick slicks of mud that covered the forest floor hadn't held Elliott's scent. Muzzle to the sky, she searched for any sign of the boy, finding with dismay that there was none. Her brows furrowed.

Pressing forward with teeth gritted in determination, Luce was caught dead in her tracks by a...horrible and heartening sound. A bark, or, rather, a series of barks, tempered by the forest's vast expanse and the rustling of the wind, met her triangle ears. Wide, golden eyes scanned every inch of land and every horizon in sight for the boy─so she eagerly assumed─and eventually the ash-stroked girl found him. Belly deep in mud, which covered nearly every inch of his sable fur, he was a pitiful sight, and her own paws slipped and slid as she carefully made her way closer to him. A high bark of her own echoed through the air, to let him know that she was here and on her way.

Lucero approached Elliot with finesse, her wild yellow eyes bright with reassurance. She was going to help him, but she was aware he didn't know her and might be apprehensive to her rescue efforts.

"Elliott, are you alright? I'm gonna get you out of here─"

She watched from a very short distance as the boy's orange eyes searched for and fell upon her, the late autumn wind slipping with a chill up her back. Please, he pleaded, and it was plain to see he was stuck. How long he had been there was concerning, but her priority was to free him from his mucky chains. Without hesitation, the long-legged girl slipped and slid her way closer to him, extending her muzzle to give him a gentle sniff while getting a closer look at the extent of his situation. Sweeping her tongue over his crown to soothe him"I know it is dear, I'm sorry," she cooed, digging some of the thick muck away from his body with a fore paw so she could hoist him out.

"I'll have you out of here in no time, and we'll get you warmed up..." It more fortunate than a relief for Luce to have found him when she had. Out here, there were worse things waiting to swallow up a young and vulnerable thing like him than a harsh chill. The dark child was cold to the bone, frightened, and she knew very well what it was like to be wet, scared, and alone. "Ready?" With diligence and gentility, paws planted firmly in the mud, she parted her wide jaws to grasp the flesh of his nape and with a weighty tug she pulled him free. There was hardly a dry spot to be had beneath the towering trees of the archaic forest, so she settled for a patch of dead ferns and it was there that she set Elliott down.

Instinctually, Lucero nudged and sniffed as any concerned adult would before casting her golden gaze upon his muddied face.

He shook and shivered, quivering, and in a bout of sympathy she felt her own skin prickle. When their eyes connected she was unsure of what words his silent gaze spoke, but she was quick to infer that the gist of their message was that he didn't want to be in trouble. A gentle grin tugged at both corners of her mouth. "Don't you worry, everything is going to be okay now," she cooed, nudging reassuringly once more beneath his chin; she would make sure that it would be. She was less concerned about whether he should or shouldn't be out here than she was about warming him up and and making the seemingly dreadful experience as minimally traumatic as possible.

Lowering herself to the ground beside him, Lucero wrapped her lithe frame around the curve of Elliott's back, shifting her weight and wriggling in as closely as she could. Her long fur, now thick and plush for the coming winter, overlapped the muddy black of his own coat. She'd never been close enough to the boy to notice that he was a bit thinner than the other children, but it was apparent now as she ran her chin along the barely distinguishable prominences of his ribs. What was his story? As she tended to him in a motherly way she hadn't previously considered she was capable of, Luce felt a hint of guilt creep into her heart. Elliott was an orphan, introduced to Magnolia Glen by Phineas himself, but she'd been so wrapped up in caring for Borlla that she hadn't made the effort to know him, and other newcomers, like she should have.

When he was warm and more comfortable perhaps they would have a chance to talk about what happened today, and maybe she could make up for lost time. Until then, she remained nestled around him, tenderly working to clean the muck from his crown and face.

The time the pair spent on the fading fern-adorned floor of the forest passed slowly and, for the most part, quietly. The steady beating of her heart thumped against the walls of her chest and sides, against the body of the small boy whose shivering resonated against her ribs. Eventually he would wriggle closer into her warmth and in response she wrapped her lithe frame more tightly around him. As young as she was, the feeling of motherly concern that Luce felt was tender and novel. She had no recollection of what it was like to be on the other side of such an encounter─to be the child who was taken care of; but the absence of such memories from her life didn't sour or hinder her ability to tend to the child beside her.

Here and there Elliot would shift around or nuzzle closer, and she watched him with thoughtful eyes. What was in store for him? Was there a reason he'd left the Glen behind today? Her ears flicked backward at the notion that he was without a mother, a father...a blood family of his own. What unfortunate circumstances had befallen the coal hued boy. As his eyes flickered upward to her, Luce's own gaze met his own, searching the warm depths that churned with something deep she just couldn't put a finger on. He might be exhausted, but there was so much life in the Moon child's eyes that it sent a shiver down her spine. With soft words she met his inquiry.

"Lucero," she smiled, "but you can call me Luce."