He felt as though he had looked everywhere. There was no hint of her upon the trees of the Enocra forest. Nothing to be sniffed of her in valley. No paw print that held her familiar perfume along the shores of Ruieze Lake of the banks of the Aplos River. He despaired to think that perhaps he may find her within the bowels of the Grotto, to no avail. It was as if Paravana had simply vanished from Moladion without a trace. Atlas feared for his sister; all his life he had wanted nothing more than to serve as his brother's King's Guard if he someday took up the helm of Diveen, and it had naturally fallen into his repertoire to look after his sister as well. But he had failed her, for she was undiscoverable. He had met up with Emil a couple of times, but his brother was having no better luck. One night Atlas had even sat upon the cusp of the valley and sang, calling out to his sister in her favorite form of communication. But there had been no answer.

His mind had been plunged into further disarray when he came upon a scene long stale blood and scents almost completely washed away by rain. The earth was marred, and Atlas recognized it for what it was - tell tale signs of a battle for power. Perhaps one for survival, Atlas could not be sure. But as he put his nose to the ground and sniffed at the decayed scents he did not discover the dreadful presence of his sister. No, instead it was much worse. From a young age he'd been educated about the dangers that faced Angels, one being the wolf who was the opposite of everything their family stood for. Tobias. But even his was not the scent that gripped Atlas by the gut and practically pulled him to the ground. It was Fiammetta's. A single paw scraped at the earth, wanting to remove her from this scene. His head hung towards the earth as his claws tried to scour her scent from the ground, as if it would change what must have happened here. If he had stayed with her instead of searching for a sister who could not be found, would he have been able to prevent this? A cold wind sliced between his fur, causing a shiver to run down his spine and calling his mind to attention. He had to find her.

He moved quickly, upon long and limber legs. His darkened crown remained lower, sniffing at the surrounding area until he picked up the faintest traces of her scent mingled with that of Tobias. Each step he took was weighted, and once he had a good hold on the direction their scents were moving he was able to lift his head away from the earth and pick up the pace. Nearly his fourth spring, Atlas was truly coming into his own. Extra muscle had developed over his body thanks to the time he had spent traversing what seemed like all of Moladion in search of Paravana. With winter coming on his fur had grown long, almost fluffy in appearance. The changes were subtle, but Atlas was growing up in more ways than his appearance.

Senses went into overdrive as he drew ever closer to the borders of Asteraia, unease pressing at the back of his mind. Instinct demanded he move within the edges of the forest that lay to the pack land's southwestern border. Rumors ran thick throughout Moladion, and though his focus had been largely upon the search and rescue of his sister it had not been hard to piece the puzzle together. Tobias ruled here, and now the potent scents upon the border confirmed his fears - the black dog from the river stood at his side. Nostrils flared, overwhelmed by the two powerful odors, but just beyond them he could scent something else - someone else. Fiammetta.

Before he could think anything else of it, the sound of paw steps alerted him to someone's approach. The boy was sensible enough to evade the border patrol that he assumed it to be, dropping further back into the cover of the forest. But as the familiar white and marred form moved into sight his ears pricked forward and Atlas raised his head slightly. Was she here by choice? Was she running patrols for the bitch that had attacked her? A fire blazed in his chest, confusion and malice making a rather heady concoction. He rushed forward, perhaps recklessly abandoning his hidden place among the trees. He skid to a halt, toes precariously close to the line that would surely mean trouble for him if he were to cross. Pale golden eyes sought her, as the russet of his lips parted so that he could call out to the female that was nearly atop his position in the trail, "Fiammetta."