#blankspaceforbadthings

did she get turned around running from what was likely a deer or a skunk rather than a bear or a wolf? who's to say. marlowe's surely not going to say, but she hasn't seen anyone in almost an hour, let alone one of the guys from her search party. she's sure as hell not equipped to handle knowing about hunting and the supernatural. a lot of work needs to be done to feel more confident. instead, everything around her is striking fear. if rowan could be taken without a trace, there's no telling what could happen to someone like her that barely has gotten any self defense training in the last few weeks since finding out the truth?

while attempting to send a fifth check-in text to her mom, she sees movement in the trees in front of her. the instinct to run again is there, but the sight clearly belonging to another person keeps her in place. her fingers trail along the bark of the tree beside her and attempt to find purchase as if this gives her any sort of edge if she's not happening across another seeker. the sight of harlow coming into view is a welcome one. hopefully, the thousand emotions she's been cycling through all day aren't as obvious as she assumes they are, especially the fear and aching hopelessness that's starting to creep in. ❝ harlow. you so weren't assigned to the western forest were you? i really should have taken the numbers of the guys in my search party. ❞

he's gotten a bit turned around trying to find his way back to the mountains after dipping into the forest following a trail of blood that turned out to be nothing more than the victim of a coyote or werewolf the night before. should he have gotten back-up with the bare minimum of an extra set of eyes? probably. but spencer is good at convincing himself that he can handle things on his own, especially when others around him are in crisis, which can describe everyone in westray today. truly, he's glad that the blood trail didn't lead anywhere, because either it would signify that the missing were in danger or that the multitude of species in the search groups weren't getting along. both aren't good news for an avery. the lead avery, no less, in his wife's absence.

after crawling onto a rather large boulder for a good vantage point of his surroundings, spencer's about eighty percent confident he knows which way he needs to go. however, when he rounds a corner around a rather large tree a familiar face makes him stop in his tracks. ❝ harlow. how are you holding up? ❞ an innocent enough question, though spencer's not prepared to answer it when it comes back his way. he's had no luck in the search for his wife so far and while part of him is sure that she's keeping whoever else is with her safe and maybe solving this all from the inside, most of him is growing more nauseated as the hours tick by. ❝ i haven't found a clue in hours... suppose that's how the person playing us like puppets wants it. ❞