Tonks had disappeared. Oliver couldn't be sure she hadn't simply gotten sick of playing and returned home. He hoped she hadn't! He had to believe she hadn't, even if he might look stupid for looking still if she had.
She'd come in this direction, that much Oliver was sure of. He'd heard her retreating steps. He was currently following what he thought might be a trail she'd left behind. Being wood gatherer on the island did have its perks. For instance, he knew where he'd worked and where he hadn't, had an idea where the twigs were, how long they'd been there and if they were broken, so when some of them were missing, he knew it. When a branch had been broken off or had been moved aside, he knew it too - if he was used to getting smacked in the head with it every time he walked by, for instance.
"NYMPHADOOOOOORAAAAAA," he called in a little singsong, attempting to get her to give some kind of sign of life. "It's lucky for me you have such bright hair, I'll be sure to find you in no time."