After finding Bee at last, his next objective was to find River. It had been too daunting to try to track Bee and find where she had ended up (though ironically, she'd found the rest of Avon before he had technically) while keeping River safe, he had been alone and he didn't know if he could keep the little buck out of sight when he wasn't right next to him. It scared him in some ways to consider how much longer he'd been gone than he meant - he had no idea how quickly deer tended to grow up. He'd never honestly stopped to think to much about it.
When he'd discussed what was going to happen with River, it felt.....it felt too jarring. He had traditionally just been more like an uncle figure, the friendly adult for fun stories and random knowledge about plants and life. Now though, it felt different. It felt.....it was harder than he expected to leave River behind, and he didn't know how many times he had stopped to look back at the little deer as if to memorize everything about him before he had left the Glade to search for the lost dove.
What if something had happened to him? What if he'd worried about Fox never coming back, or somehow been hurt, and what then? It wasn't as if he could communicate with him somehow. Foxglove had his face buried in the ground, focused purely on tracking the young buck. Was he a buck at that point? Was he still a fawn? Gods - it was already too long since he'd seen him, and how much had he grown? He drew in a deep breath and tried to settle himself, a little whine leaving his lips when he had found a recent enough trail he could track him.
He ignored the snow falling, ignored everything other than the prospect of finding River - he couldn't wait to see him again.

