Any number of things could have happened to them. They could have been washed downstream. They could have been attacked by bandits. They could have gone off to relieve themselves and been eaten by wolves.
You can feel your heartbeat quicken and your gooseflesh rise as you scan the waterline for clues. Ill fortune still strikes on sunny days. [+Melancholy]
"Oliver! Morris!" you call again. You catch sight of a few footprints in the muddy meeting of water and hillside and follow them.
Onward