His wings cupped tighter, banking against a hot updraft that rose and swirled from the golden roofs beneath him, glaring in the blazing desert sun. Cupolas flashed past, pinnacles and lanced rooflines, balconies, gilded arches and stained glass.

Dry, warm air snatched at his clothes and cropped hair, whistling through the golden pinions of his wings while his black eyes flicked back and forth, scanning the churning crowds below.

It was hard to see anyone through the waving pennants and vibrant clouds of powder blossoming into the air periodically as strangers laughingly swung and exploded chalk bags on each other’s once-white embroidered robes and beautiful headdresses.

It was chaos and noise.

But — she was down there. He could feel it.

Her distinctively untamed magic burned like a beacon, or rather, like a lion, prowling like royalty through the morass of lesser magics.

She must suspect she was being followed, hoping the crowds would disguise her enough from the people tracking her. And she was right, to a degree. It probably was one of the best places to lose oneself.

He just hoped none of those hunting were as adept with lledrith-sense as he was.

With a clever flick of his wings that stalled his momentum, Andreth’s feet touched down on the steeply sloped tiles of a bell tower. He kept his wings slightly unfurled for balance until he’d gripped the metal spike in the center of the steeple with fingers that were luckily calloused enough not to feel the accumulated sun-heat.

It was the perfect perch to watch from the outskirts of town while a girl, tiny in stature, but distinctive for her mass of curls, flaming red beneath blue and pink chalk, broke away from the crowd and made her way steadily down a cool, deserted narrow alley.

Straight towards the church he was perched atop.

Hopefully she would trust him. He _needed_ her to trust him.

The fates depended on it.

What he didn’t stop to consider, was that with the blazing sun behind him as he dropped down onto the he cobbles right in front of her, all _she_ saw was a black gargoyle silhouette detatch itself from the roof to land with menacing grace at her feet, blocking the way forward.

Of course she screamed.

Right before she threw a peshwari naan at his face, trailing glittering, aromatic spices behind it as it sang through the air with a blast of raw, and deadly accurate magic to propel it.