She stitched the night air gracefully, darting from the bushes where Raistlin was concealed, down through the shadows pooled beneath the trees near the cottage door where Flint crouched ready.
The panther, Caramon, had silenced his ominous rumbling, but Tanis scented him closer now and knew he was prowling, ghost-silent, along the side of the house. Above him the falcon took wing and landed on the roof above the door. Tanis caught his breath; had he seen the falcon anywhere he would have known him for Sturm by the proud lift of his head.
Wren alighted on the windowsill and fluttered her wings against the glass. In the voice of the bird she piped and lamented. She might only have been some night-caught creature seeking shelter.
A shadow crossed the glass. Tanis heard an indrawn breath. Man-scent rose on the air, stronger now. The panther's green eyes glittered dangerously in the light spilling from the window. It seemed to Tanis, with his heightened sense of smell, that Rieve must know what waited outside his door.
Wren left the sill, flew to the door, and came near to hitting Flint where he waited in the shadows.
Rieve's shadow left the window, vanished, then fell to block the line of light leaking from beneath the door. A red ghost in the night, Tanis glided down the hill, keeping to the shadows until he was aligned with Flint at the opposite side of the door. He heard the sound of the latch being lifted.
"Wren," a cold voice said from within. "So, you've returned?"
YES! she piped. OH, PLEASE LET ME IN!
"Of course, little one, of course." There was silky threat in the mage's voice. "You've reconsidered?"