Welcome to Gaia! ::

(Since this is set in the 'past,' I'll also be using a past setting for Ianthe rather than her current living/etc situation... also because that involves Ferret's character as well. AND I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG X-X ).

The night was dark, crisp, and somewhat clear, with the city so close now that the lone rider found herself almost squinting at it. A sense of relief grew about her covered head in the form of a wreath of frosted breath, and even the large draft horse beneath her seemed to realize the frigid journey was almost over. ...Because, really, not many things are worse than an eight hour journey through winter's clutches.

But before the woman could spur on the shaggy beast, a much smaller -- by comparison -- creature gave an questionable fidget of feet and feathers. The woman inclined her head towards its perch on her shoulder, and the bird picked at her cloak before staring far ahead to their left, away from the city lights.

"Hm?" she grunted, turning the draft to follow the bird's gaze. All she saw was black, and maybe some paler black that sort of discerned the snow covered ground from the sky.

The bird continued to look on, head cocking this way and that. It hopped from her shoulder to her hand that held the reins, and lifted its beak up into the air.

"Smoke. From homes," the woman attempted to clarify, though judging by the bird's sudden ruffling of feathers... she was wrong. "Then be quick about it."

And like that the bird took off towards the black, sticking out like a pale beacon. She sat, unmoving, watching the creature move a hundred meters by a hundred meters, until he too was swallowed up. It became very quiet then, oddly so, even though up until that point there hadn't been any 'conversation' the entire journey.

It wasn't long though till the white bird found what he had been sensing; a thing moving slowly that smelled of blood and smoke. Or rather, two things that smelled of blood and smoke.

He circled the pair of men a few times before alighting on the snow in front of the uninjured one, clicking in uneasy warning. Head was turned fully to one side, a single, slightly glowing violet eye watching the standing man closely. They did not appear dangerous, nor the ones that caused the smoke and blood. .... but there was definitely one producing said iron liquid.

Well... better call the cavalry.

Hopping back once, the bird suddenly yelled, "IANTHE," in a voice that was distinctly human and male, though surprisingly not entirely urgent, despite the situation. The action was enough to work, though, and shortly after heavy plodding, and the clinking of riding gear, could be heard fast approaching.

"The ******** did you find now?"

The awkward mass, or masses, spoke, and the rider slowed her mount to a couple yards away. The rook remained on the ground, unperturbed when the draft horse side-stepped nervously to the hiss of a match being lit. A small lantern eventually, slowly brightened in the cold and the rider regarded the conscious man with dark circled eyes and a weary, scrutinizing gaze. She looked at the blood on his person, and to the trail of it that made an inky line in the snow.

Meanwhile the white rook ruffled his feathers and continued to stare until a rather loud 'thud' sounded behind him, and the crunching of snow followed. The bird's attention then shifted to the ....very small woman now beside him and everything that was awash in dim, yellow light.

"Lower him to the ground, if you can," the woman said, words clipped but given at an average decibel, and not as gruff as previously. Standing there it was undoubtedly obvious that she was indeed very short, not even hitting five feet. She admittingly had to look up at the man, even though he was slouched under 150-plus bounds of dead weight. She gave no appearance to loathing that fact though, and went on to ask, "Do you know where his worst injuries are?"