[size=9pt]It was Edgar who told him.

Hobbling on over on aged feet, he was clearly slightly frantic. He grabbed at Moon's leg with strange mole hands and told him in hushed, hurried words that there'd been humans passing through with hounds, and they'd taken a chunk out of a fox pup. Strange how Edgar had first asked Moon to heal a rabbit that was crippled under the wrath of a fox, and now he was asking him to save the child of the same creature. But it was okay; Moon wouldn't judge. There was something... Humanitarian, or whatever, about the fact that he cared, anyway. Moral of the story type shit.

He'd spent twenty good minutes with his nose to the ground and his eyes squinted for any pawprints, any blood, any sign at all to indicate that the fox cub had run this way. But even though he'd found the beginning of her trail, there was some confusion in the undergrowth, overlapping branches and weeds and such, and he'd fucking lost it.

Frustrated, the lion returned to the Ascendants camp, all flushed cheeks under golden fur and wind blown mane. He stood above most creatures who inhabited the territory, but still, the adolescent made a show of scanning the crowd. He knew who he was looking for, but he also didn't know her. They'd spoken once and that'd been it. But, in that moment, he really, really needed her and so he threw his worries about his blood's fate to the wind. Doesn't matter if he's all dried up-- at least the kid won't be. "Hey, uh-- Anyone seen Margaery? About yea high, grey-ish eyes, on some Edward Cullen shit?"

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© MADI

[size=9pt]Speak of the devil and she shall come. Or, beg for the vamp and she probably will, too. He releases a breath of relief when he spots her, and instantly turns with hope that she'll follow. "Don't sell yourself short, Fangs," he says as he walks, clearly rushed. But Moons a charmer at heart, and so he spares time to throw the point a passing grin. Girls always bloom under flattery, and he needs some way of making this worth her while, anyway. "I'm no poet, but I see some glittery shit in those eyes. Suite really lucked out."

He leads them away from camp and into the plains, quick strides, completely unaware that it might be hard for the smaller feline to keep up. But there's some kid out there bleeding out and he knows Margaery's quick on her feet, anyway. You'd need to be if you lived off fresh blood, he imagines. He also imagines some fox pup dying, alone and all teary-eyed, so sue him if he isn't exactly walking at a considerate pace. "Edgar-- he's an old geezer I know, long story-- told me there's some fox kid after getting mauled by a bunch of hounds. She's bleeding out, but I lost her fuckin' trail, and I know you've got history with that shit, so I need you to be my sniffer." says the lion, clearly dead-set on the task at hand. So much so that when Margy mentions something different, he's lost, for a second. Oh. He huffs a laugh. "Don't worry about it. Not the first time a cougar's wanted to take a bite of me, anyway." He'd wink, but they've just arrived at the spot he'd found the last bloody paw print and so he thinks it'd be kind of weird. "Just make sure you pick up on this blood and you can consider yourself forgiven."