For hours Jaken flew on A-un's back, shivering in the dark morning through freezing winds and clinging snow. But the cold didn't matter. The weather, terrible as it was, merely dismayed but did not daunt. When his Lord demanded, he obeyed. For behind any demand of Sesshomaru's was the threat of bodily harm. Harm that would surely hurt, harm that could express itself in twitching claws or in flying rocks.
A low groan rumbled underneath Jaken, full-throated and miserable. It was A-un, and the sound came from the left head. The right head shared similar feelings but preferred snorting to crying. "Do not complain!" he scolded—at which the left head groaned again.
Jaken had successfully completed his task. The master's house was built—and what a fine house it was. Not quite a palace but grand in its own right.
But most importantly that house, above all else, was an elusive one. Not easily found and when found not easily seen. Like the Lady mother's whose palace almost seemed to melt into the clouds, so too did this house blend into the forest.