November 13, Late afternoon
It had been somewhere around six weeks since Sachiel had disappeared, at least Draven thought that was right. He had followed his trail for two days hardly resting, moving north before he lost it around Cold Water Creek. Since then the father had spent countless nights doubling back on his trail, sweeping the surrounding vale meticulously but to no avail. The Leigh had tried going farther north but had ended up turned around and somewhere back around where he had started. Without seeing any other option he had crossed the mountain, though he knew that odds were slim that the pup could have made it across the stony giant.
Draven had ended up on an area of the mountain he had never seen before, even during his year with the Cove. He had considered going back to ask for help but had too much shame to show his face there and say he had lost Namid’s grandson. Especially given what had gone down between himself and Neha. Instead, when he found the top of the waterfall and had followed the water to where it plunged below.
By the time he got to the pools below he was exhausted. Even with the cooler weather of the late fall afternoon his mouth felt unquenchably dry. Leaning over to lap at the water he didn’t even think about where he was or who might be lurking in the mist created from the crashing falls. All he could think about was finding Sachiel, and trying not to think about what it would mean if he could never find him.