The trail of red shouldn't shake her as much as it does but she heard those cannons. Every cannon had been a cause for anxiety, every splash of red a stab in her heart. She's a fool, she lost him and she should have found him sooner. Who knows...Who knows who he ran into, that idiot, she told him to stay close. She hefts her water bottle by the thin vine strap. It cuts into her shoulders as she follows the trail and she has to stop to gather up her supplies a little tighter. The noise of her bottle against her hip or the rustle of the tent and food strapped to her back, they might gather unwanted attention.. Even her breath seems too loud, it'll give her away. Whatever or whoever killed this person might still be near.

"Si--" No, it's puddle of red, the person gone. She takes a shaky breath, trying to fight off the dizziness that the color brings and looks around for the next trail. Under a low branch, over a pile of rocks and sharp edged ferns, she sees a bright fleck of yellow-orange-red, a horn. It doesn't continue past the branch above them, it's not the Initiate. All in a rush, her feet tripping over each other, she ducks in close and reaches out for the person, the grey arm that's closest to her.

There was no blood trail here, nothing beyond what might be on hands or from a cut, if it's him, he has to be okay. He's fine.