The feathers danced, dissolving into a dragon with a gaping maw that breathed white flame. In its death throes the dragon became a stooping falcon, the falcon a great stalking cat, the cat a blur of wings. The wings faded into wisps, swept away by a rising wind that carried the chill of coming snow.

Blair tore his gaze from the shifting winter clouds with an effort, expelling his held breath in a shudder that shook his skinny frame. Instinct urged him to curl into himself and he fought against it, knowing full well the omens rushing overhead wouldn't pass by harmlessly no matter how small and insignificant he made himself. He was no Oracle, blessed with insight of things to come, but he did understand that hunters in the sky above meant death was coming on the ground below. Death by blood and battles...

He shook himself sharply and began to pace, trying to push such dark musings away. The city had taught him that energy could never wasted on vague threats and superstitions, not when real danger haunted every turn. In his younger days it had seemed a good and proper thing to spend days hovering by streams to read the secrets of their ripples, seeking direction from an earth that seemed full of hidden singing and promises. Time moved differently in this new world of dead wood and suffocating anger, transformed from the floating days and languid nights of his homeland. Here time was sharp, immediate and pressing, brutal in its constant demands. His body had to be fed, shelter sought, space protected. For a being that might live a thousand years or more such concepts nearly hurt to grasp. Blair no longer had the luxury of a future waiting, stretching out and already mapped for travel. Here there was only the moment, too fleeting and full of sudden importance.

Now his makeshift sling was chafing at his neck and the shadows were lengthening and these seemed far more pressing matters than any ghostly predators the sky could show. Ellison was late. That came as no real surprise, though it did make him angry that he had wasted any time bothering to wait for the human. His memories of their encounter were confused, blurring by stress and fear, but it hadn't escaped him that the fledging Sentinel was desperate and groping at any hope. With a day between them to reflect and consider, the elf didn't dare believe that the man had missed his own pitiful need and begging. The offer of food, clothes, a salary had led him to make promises he knew he couldn't keep and he hadn't hidden his eagerness nearly so smoothly as he should have.

Yet still he paced, watching the dust his footfalls stirred rising into the still air and trying hard to ignore the ache settling in his bones. He had little enough left without abandoning his hope. The deal was simply too perfect to let pass idly by. The human Sentinel knew nothing of his own powers or heritage, could only guess at the potential he was meant to achieve and that Blair couldn't help him reach. But control...that the elf could grant or anyone else with a gift of talking slowly and staying calm himself, though there was certainly no need for the human ever to discover that little fact. Even on the coldest night he had never dreamed that such a mark would fall into his lap.

But the sun was sinking fast and dusk was the most dangerous and fruitful time. Ellison wasn't coming and he needed to steal a better sling at the marketplace. He spun on his heel, shoving his feelings of disappointment brutally away. It actually took him several steps to realize a large form leaned casually against the stone that marked the entrance to the alley, the dying light highlighting the sword at its hip. In one swift second Blair went from wishing the Sentinel would show to wondering how in the world he had been so foolish. An automatic snarl bubbled from his throat as he tensed and slide back, restless nerves screaming in warning. The human could kill him with very little effort and had shown yesterday that he was not without temper. If he had realized that Blair was little more than a beggar aspiring to be cunning why did the elf assume he would merely let it pass?

The wolf rose in him and he welcomed it, his own sight and smell sharpening as the spirit animal's body replaced his own. His own naivety had caused this mess but he would not go easily, would not let this human win. He'd disgraced his people enough without that final indignity! He was elf, he was wolf, he was power and grace and tied to worlds Ellison would never see or suspect.

He gathered himself and charged, aiming for the man's unguarded throat.