Daenerys had asked this important task of him, to aid in the search for Heyel, and he had readily complied. Isola too had sent someone out looking for the missing male, her own son. Sleekwing had caught a whiff of Achilles' scent moving in the most direct trajectory to get him back to Diveen. It was assumed that was where he would begin his search, from the freshest trail Heyel had left when he last crossed the borders out of his home. In the meantime, Sleekwing intended to sweep wide of the valley and move down through Enocra Woodland, hoping to perhaps find the once King within the protection of the trees. His legs extended into a lope, a gait that he often adopted during border patrols or scouting missions. It was a pace made for covering long distances, allowing a wolf's stamina to prevail over speed.

Sleekwing was thorough in his search, frequently dropping speed so that he could lower his nose to the ground in search of Heyel's scent. The heather painted warrior had only met the self proclaimed Angel King once before, but he could remember a singular wolf's scent just as well as the next scout. No matter where he looked, however, Sleekwing could not catch so much as a trace of the missing wolf. Clearly he had not made it this far north, and so as he swung around the northeastern corner of the valley and began to head down through the edges of the woodland he picked up the pace a bit, not wanting to waste his time in locations that Heyel surely would not be found. But he was still suspicious that perhaps the aged wolf had wandered too far from Diveen, and as the skies began to rumble above perhaps he had sought shelter among the trees. So he loped steadily along the southern edge of the woodland, frequently slowing to sniff at fresh scents only to find them entirely unfamiliar. When the rain started, Sleekwing began to wonder if he would manage to find this wolf before his scent trails were washed away. He could only hope that Achilles had more luck closer to Diveen.

It was a streak of white moving through the open plains that caught Sleekwing's attention as he glanced up for a moment, concerned about the storm. Cobalt blue eyes haloed in lavender narrowed, focusing on the far off wolf. Heyel was pure white, but this could not be him, moving at such a rapid pace. It took Sleekwing only a moment longer to recognize the way the shewolf moved, the curvature of her bodice. Natu. And she was streaking across the distance in a way he had never seen her move before - determined, yes, but there seemed to be something akin to panic in her movements. Abandoning his search, Sleekwing set off after her, unaware of her connection to the very thing he searched for.

She had a decent lead on him, and by the time he caught up with her she was already flinging herself headlong at another white wolf. Her jaws snapped out at him, her pelt dirtied with mud and dirt and Sleekwing near enough stumbled over the form of a third white wolf. He slid to a stop in the wet soil, shocked to look down at the bloodied, deceased form of Heyel. Sleekwing's stomach dropped and his heart lurched, to see the crimson that stained the old wolf's once pristine white coat was evidence enough to know he had been assassinated. Dark blue eyes flashed back up towards Natu and the wolf she grappled with. Not wasting another minute, Sleekwing leapt over Heyel's corpse and flung himself into the fray, lowering his head and then dropping his shoulder just before impact. He trust upwards with the point of his shoulder, hoping to ram the white male in the ribs and force him away from Natu. His lips peeled back in warning as he rose up to stand beside Natu if she was on her feet or in front of her if she had fallen. Sleekwing could not be sure if this wolf was responsible for Heyel's death, but he'd caught his scent and it would be remembered. All the Castellan of the mountain was truly concerned about in this moment was ensuring Natu's safety.