He sits, staring towards the inner rings, but his back not far from the border, mechanics and rosters in his head. Generally, he would hide himself away under brush or thick shade, drenched in mud, but he is clean, for once, marks unmistakable to anyone aware of the Tribe. Fortunately, it doesn't seem anyone left is.
Tricolour eyes don't shift, despite who comes to join him. "Sindarin is missing," he admits, like to say as much is a curse. It has been days, and her own siblings have not seen the girl. He hasn't seen her parents, either. "North, Nero, I assume the rest of the brood is with them. I suppose that leaves me, as far as Kestrels go."
Finally, Kitkun shifts his scrutiny to any that have arrived. "Call me Vance. Who have you lost?"