Ash 12 123
Mirza trekked into the desert in the afternoon. It was dry, hot, unwieldy weather, the sky clear and blue and the sand hot. It did not matter so much, though, as she flew out of the bounds of the city alongside her golden eagle Bird, a nearly empty bag with waterskins, arrows, and her bow clutched in her talons. It would have been easier if she had simply sprouted those avian wings, but she did not want to use so much aether to combine the forms of elf and eagle, nor did she want to draw so much attention to herself so soon after arrival.
She flew with some breaks for nearly an hour before she felt comfortable enough to assume her dragonborn shape once more. She hadn't seen many wyvern sentries on her way out, and she was not to be discovered by the Golden Guard — but an hour or two of hunting would certainly not be such a risk.
The hot sand did not burn her scaly feet, but she did not bring clothes other than a falconer's glove to cover her skin. It didn't bother her unusually so, even if her hand grew sweaty from the leather glove. Mirza scanned the rocks and sparse flora for a sign of rabbits or foxes — first visually, and then again with semblance, mentally amplifying the auras of any beast or animal she could see. She caught a rabbit hole and disturbed dirt and dust behind a nibbled-on thorny bush, and she stood there silently, Bird waiting on her arm.
It took a few minutes, but a hare — not thin, but not fat, either — crept out of the hole and made cautious hops in the direction opposite of Mirza. With a twitch of her arm, Bird took off, almost fast enough to snatch the hare, but it managed a few seconds of chase before it was captured in her talons. Just as quickly the rabbit was returned to Mirza and she held it up by the forelegs with one hand as Bird rested on her other forearm.
"Good hunting, Bird," She cooed in Ecitharese. "Beautiful mottled fur on these desert hares."
Mirza trekked into the desert in the afternoon. It was dry, hot, unwieldy weather, the sky clear and blue and the sand hot. It did not matter so much, though, as she flew out of the bounds of the city alongside her golden eagle Bird, a nearly empty bag with waterskins, arrows, and her bow clutched in her talons. It would have been easier if she had simply sprouted those avian wings, but she did not want to use so much aether to combine the forms of elf and eagle, nor did she want to draw so much attention to herself so soon after arrival.
She flew with some breaks for nearly an hour before she felt comfortable enough to assume her dragonborn shape once more. She hadn't seen many wyvern sentries on her way out, and she was not to be discovered by the Golden Guard — but an hour or two of hunting would certainly not be such a risk.
The hot sand did not burn her scaly feet, but she did not bring clothes other than a falconer's glove to cover her skin. It didn't bother her unusually so, even if her hand grew sweaty from the leather glove. Mirza scanned the rocks and sparse flora for a sign of rabbits or foxes — first visually, and then again with semblance, mentally amplifying the auras of any beast or animal she could see. She caught a rabbit hole and disturbed dirt and dust behind a nibbled-on thorny bush, and she stood there silently, Bird waiting on her arm.
It took a few minutes, but a hare — not thin, but not fat, either — crept out of the hole and made cautious hops in the direction opposite of Mirza. With a twitch of her arm, Bird took off, almost fast enough to snatch the hare, but it managed a few seconds of chase before it was captured in her talons. Just as quickly the rabbit was returned to Mirza and she held it up by the forelegs with one hand as Bird rested on her other forearm.
"Good hunting, Bird," She cooed in Ecitharese. "Beautiful mottled fur on these desert hares."
