He had been to see Alice and Sabriel, Yojimbo and Vega, and there was yet another on his mind that he desired to meet up with again. One other besides Dimitri, of course. The aging Gypsy mentally scolded himself, as he knew he was putting off seeing the other child of Makism and Tarquin. It wasn't that he didn't want to see him - it was quite the opposite. The lost and confused boy had been as close to a son as Hawthorn had ever had, but now he couldn't help but feel he had failed the young man in some way. It made him uneasy.

No, for now, he would seek out the young mystic he had rescued when they were fleeing old Moladion.

From what he could gather, Orca had never returned to the packlands. Even though the Gypsies were no longer as tight knit as they used to be, she had kept wandering. She had the strength and heart of the sort of free spirit Hawthorn often admired. She was not just wanton and careless. No, Orca had been growing calm, patient, and wise with her endless freedom. While Hawthorn had somewhat feared what the reactions of his other friends would be when he returned, worried that they would be bitter and blame him for his abscence, he did not feel quite the same concern with Orca. He had a feeling the young woman would understand, at the least.

When he found her, she was crouched at the edge of the river and intently watching the rippling surface of the water. Her posture shifted, joints rolling as she obviously got herself into position to go for a dive. With a gently amused expression, Hawthorn decided not to disturb her quite yet and instead watch to see how her little project turned out. He didn't immediately make himself known as he settled down into the grass that had been yellowed by fall and got comfortable.

She jumped, arched, and the surface of the water broke. Hawthorn lifted his head a little higher to keep an eye on her, mildly impressed with the otter-like grace she had executed her dive with. The river shattered again as she surfaced, the wriggling length of silver scales most obviously a fish. Even more impressive, as Hawthorn didn't think he would ever be able to catch a fish in such a manner. It required a certain finesse and precision that he was certain he did not have.

Before he could make himself known, before even a chuckle could escape his throat, there was someone else. A young male who seemingly had appeared from nowhere. Good nature had Hawthorn looking over the newcomer with only pure curiosity at first, but something in his speech and the way he carried himself immediately set the Medicine Man at unease after the fact. Something tight had constricted at his heart for a moment and he drew his lips thin into a frown before shaking it off.

He got to his feet and greeted the two with a soft wuff, followed by a warm chuckle as he approached them. His ocean blue eyes lingered at the male a moment before addressing the black and white lady.

"Miss Orca," he said happily, his tone soft and familiar. "I had hoped I'd run into you out here... I, ah, didn't realize you would have company. It's certainly been a while, hasn't it?"

To Czech, he nodded politely and even smiled. Just because he was wary did not mean he couldn't be friendly. "I am Hawthorn... I was the Medicine Man for these Gypsies, once..."