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“So,” Detraeus said, hopping over an outcropping of rock and balancing with wings and tail as he continued upwards, bow in hand. “If I see something…I’m not to shoot it, yes?”

The Eowyn sun beat down upon him and his company — Casseth — as they made their way deeper into the Terra Expanse. Given Lithian’s reaction to the process the last time, Casseth had conceded that perhaps making an effort without his prim and whiny healer attached at the hip could bring about more favorable results. Though, admittedly, it was largely — or entirely — Detraeus’ fault the last attempt failed. As referenced by his attempt at conversation — something Casseth had encourage him to endeavor to participate in on occasion — an arrow through the skull had prevented Casseth’s last potential catch from being suitable as a mount, and Detraeus assumed, from the commentary following that occasion, that Cas would prefer he not repeat said reaction.

Due to their lack of success in finding any additional roaming beasts on their last attempt, he and Casseth had set out early this time, intending to dig deeper into the Expanse and strapped with enough supplies that, should they need to, they could travel more than a day in.

Detraeus grunted in acknowledgement. It occurred to him to wonder, briefly as they went along and as his own wings stretched and beat on occasion to facilitate his climbing, why Casseth had not yet undergone the process of growing a pair. His tail had clearly come in, evidence of his already amply obvious oblivionite blood, but regardless of whether his hybrid body inherited the traits of his dovaa or his oblivionite ancestry, he ought to have developed some set of wings by now, ought he not? Detraeus considered that, perhaps, his wings were simply delayed. Wings and tails could, in some individuals, come in at differing points in their lives. He knew now — after research on the subject, following his unexpected personal growths — that the combination sometimes appeared early and other times many years later, so the timeline was clearly based largely on genetics.

It was also possible, he supposed, that Casseth’s mixed race bloodline had stunted or interfered with that part of his pool of traits. Regardless, he didn’t consider it prudent to ask and kept his attention on the task at hand. Their efforts were eventually rewarded.

They came upon the first set of tracks some time into the afternoon, tracked them, and found more, but it was waning into the evening, close but not yet late enough for the air to begin cooling, when they came upon the first permanent habitat: a baowi cave. Active still, clearly, and Detraeus lingered back as he eyed it, some ways up the slope ahead but populated with multiples of the adult beasts roaming about or napping with the occasional cub rolling and hopping in the in between spaces.

Detraeus’ hand lingered instinctively close to the quiver at his hip, but he left his arrows sheathed, for now. “Well?”