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Lae rode well, equipped for the hunt with mundane – if well made – weaponry. This wasn't the first time she had hunted with her father, and she had been 'blooded' before that, long before, back in the wilds when she had first learned to trap and track. It was the first time doing so in such a large and varied group.

She admitted to some distraction at the beginning – Dovaa were not a common sight for her, and their horns and scales were elegant in a beautifull way. Clearly, their god has a flair for artistry. she had determined. Also, despite knowing that Malikai could stay seated on his beast, she did fret slightly about whether he would this time.

But once the hunt was underway, the distraction faded. Outside observers, perhaps, would have noticed a similarity of intensity and stature between father and daughter as they pursued their quarry, watching the wilds for signs of movement and the hunting beasts and guides for signs of notice.

Of course, they were both looking for the signs of one of the great beasts of Ayr, the creatures that drew them here in the first place, but for now, there had been neither hide or hair nor feather of the creatures.

In the meantime Laesara had bagged two of the firebirds, the Fuereches, personally and without incident. She had only missed three times, despite the crossbow she had been given not being her best weapon. Their carcasses rested on the pack animal, to be processed later into their feathers and a trophy of her choice, and she was quite proud of them.

Things were going well until the dragons came, though one could say that they, being the fiercest beasts on the Ayr winds, were the whole point of hunting in this land. Laesara took a shot with her crossbow as they landed, catching one of them in the flank. She knew she was safe – of course she was, with Malesmech's blade on one side and her father's magic on the other. She reloaded to take another shot, her body thrumming with excitement as she heard the first dragon's dying scream and saw – with adrenaline-fueled dismay – Malikai fall.

She had no time to assess her squire's condition as the dragon, insulted by her shot, turned towards them. Before her next bolt could hit it, or her father could damage it with a sizzling strike of his magic, it roared, blowing her lesser mass off of her hastar even as her cloak slapped against her bodyguards hand as he tried to catch her. Her long pink-tipped wings came out and she glided on the winds.

“Damn it!” snarled Malesmech as he jumped from his hastar. His wings flared and, sword in hand, he was soon after the dragon even as the winds tipped and churned around him with the dragon's magic. Laesara fought to stay level – her wings were broad and built for stability, but she was still young and could only do so much.

The dragon lunged for her, its silvery teeth ready to plunge into her body. A single strike could end it all...

She closed her wings once, falling out of the dragon's path, and then clapped them open, grabbing onto the dragon's side. It flapped once, and that was enough time for her to draw the shortsword at her belt. It wasn't that she had stopped thinking – no – she had come here to hunt, and hunt she was. The dragon would die.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she drove the sword into its side, just under its wing. It howled, its wing crumpling as her sword severed its tendons and it careened towards the ground. It grabbed for her, intending to bring her down with it, but Mals sword flashed and its foreleg fell away. Laesara tumbled out, struggling to keep her balance as the wind buffeted her and her wings.

The dragon fell, crashing down on top of Mal and crushing him into the rock even as he finished it off. The winds of its dying spell churned the air around Laesara and she tumbled away, struggling to keep upright and within gliding distance of the party. She saw the final dragon dissolve to ash, pierced by weapons and by her father's spells, but she was soon ripped away from the scene by another gust of air, and her tired wings struggled again to keep her from falling to her death.

Finally, it quieted, and she circled around to glide back. She was over one of Ayr's chasm's now, not far away. Her wings felt as though they would pop from her shoulders at any minute, stretched and battered beyond what they were used to.

“Laesara!” her father was at the edge of the chasm on his hastar, calling her name.

“I'm here!” she managed. Her voice was tense – she was focused on gliding to that ledge and safety and she didn't think she could, exactly, manage it. Her father could not fly out to get her, after all – the acid burns that had taken his leg had damaged his tattoos as well – and she could not see other dovaa in the group – and her current glide would take her far below the ledge, or where anybody could pull her up, “I'm going to find another spot to land!” she called out, circling around.

She heard him call her name again, even as the storms of Ayr ate the sound. She was fortunate – she spotted a ledge and a path, far below the plains they had been hunting on, and managed to land. She was grateful to close her aching wings and sat there, resting, for a moment.

The snort of a hastar startled her for a moment, until she recognized, from its pack, as one of theres. “Separated too, are you?” she asked it, petting its thick, wiry hide. “Did a wind blow you from the edge?” she asked softly, obviously not expecting an answer. It was an Ayr hastar, after all, likely able to clamber its way out of what would be a deadly fall to any other beast.

She peered over the edge again. It would be best not to stay in the open she thought, Not with dragons about, and not with the storms of this land. I should move, and see if I cannot find civilization... or, better yet, the hunting party.

“Well.” she turned to the path, “Let us find our way back together, shall we?” she said, grateful for the hastar's company. She would rather not be alone in this strange land. It huffed, and the two were soon off into the Ayran wilds...