Stogie sets the shotgun across his lap to semi-auto, and turns slowly, facing not quite downwind. Jake. Danger. The dog starts into a crouch immediately. Quiet. Wake Ellesar. An image of his teammate forms in his mind, and Jake sees it. The dog scurries over to the reclining man and pokes his face with a wet nose. When Ellesar reacts to the dog's prodding, Stogie says to him in a quiet voice, "Something moving downwind, 'bout fifty meters." In hopes of catching Smohalla's attention, he whistles a tuneless string of notes, thrice over.

With a jolt, Smohalla joins the realm of the conscious.

The sudden, unexpected wakefulness is difficult to deal with at his age.

Disorientation causes Smohalla's prone form to shimmer, left arm shortening, feathers sprouting.

Both legs shrink, knees reversing direction, talons forming where nails were moments ago.

Yet as the confusion of the mind subsides, so does the confusion of the body.

Changes that were done are now undone, the body eagerly reversing itself.

A fully human form sits up, eyes cloudy with sleep taking in the surroundings.

Ellesar rolls onto his side, wiping his face repeatedly and muttering something about trolls. He replies to Stogie, his glazed eyes attempting to focus. "50 liters of what?"

Stogie rises and faces downwind. "Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep boys, but I think something is in the forest checking us out. I can hear whatever it is about fifty meters out, but it's downwind so neither I nor Jake can smell what it is. Could be nothing serious, but sleeping meat is easier to take than if it's awake."

He tunes in to Jake's senses to try to triangulate whatever is moving out there.

Smohalla considers using his magic to view the threat from afar.

But he is still wary about using magic in this place.

Without sufficient time spent studying the aura of the mountain, it could be dangerous.

He decides instead to stay low to the ground to present a small target.

His eyes scan the darkness in the direction Stogie indicates.

Picking up his bow once more Ellesar turns to face the direction indicated by Stogie. "Whatever it is it had better get out here or leave. I am not in the mood for some wild beast."

Whatever it is continues to approach. It's moving slowly but steadily; you can't quite tell if it's on two legs or four. It comes to a stop before you can see it. Stogie's enhanced hearing can pick out deep, rhythmic breathing.

You can see the occasional branch move but you can't pick out the shape. It must be coal-black, or invisible. Astrally, the trees and bushes still hide it. But suddenly something is visible. You can make out... teeth. Glowing teeth. And red eyes, two of them, about a meter off the ground. The eyes are alarming but the teeth are downright unnerving. Either it has bioluminescent saliva or its been chewing on blue glow sticks.

Stogie and Smohalla both have a passing understanding of the paranormal wildlife in the area. They exchange a look and say it in unison, their stomachs churning with acid:

If it is alone, it should not attack us.

Smohalla pauses for a moment.

Let us hope it is alone.

The psychic dataflow between Stogie and Jake takes a jump of several orders of magnitude. It takes a herculean effort for Stogie to keep Jake from bolting. After a few moments, though, Jake settles into his training. Down. watch. Wait.

Stogie raises his firearm and is ready for any sudden movement. He aims at the beast and waits. "No need to kill if it doesn't attack, but if it does... some of us may not be able to act."

I probably should not be flying, if that might happen.

Perhaps I will scout in the astral.

It could be safer.

To put it frankly Ellesar is at ease. He's relaxed. At first he had thought they were in danger. Now he's realized that he is just dreaming.

"Whew, it's been quite some time since I've had a lucid dream. Don't worry, I'll play along." His tone is playful, his mood unconcerned. "So what's so bad about the thing with the rave teeth?"

The beast takes a step closer, emerging from the darkness. Its black hide looks sleek and barely reflects the fire light. From where you are, it looks like black vulcanized rubber, hard and strong. Sharp spines protrude along the length of its back, rising as hackles. Its breathing is deep and low as it considers you. Its eyes glow red as it smiles at you with an insane, black light grin.

Barghests are known to hunt alone during mating season, but that won't start for another two months at the earliest. Most of the rest of the time they're found in small packs. They generally don't tackle things larger than themselves, although this brute is big enough to consider you his equal. But perhaps it's not hunting you just yet, since it hasn't left you witless with urine running down your leg.

Being dual-natured, the creature stares right back at Smohalla on the astral. Its curiosity has gotten the better of it for now as it surveys the scene.

Stogie keeps the beast in his sights, but inside is screaming at himself. Why the hell didn't I take those earbuds in for their upgrade when the shop told me the parts were in???

"This is freaky, boys. Normally, a bunch of us like this shouldn't be approached this way. Maybe the place is making it act differently. Maybe if we just stay calm, it will go away."

Jake. Stay down. No boss fight. Jake responds, {translate emotion to language} No fucking kidding, Stogie. Jake is alert, strung like a fine-tuned violin, and making himself look as small and inconsequential as he possibly can.

Smohalla's body goes limp on the ground as his spirit fully enters the astral.

A large glowing eagle quickly wings it's way upward on wings made of aether.

Riding the currents of mana in a slow spiral, he looks for signs of more intruders.

Smohalla's spirit separates from his body and slips into the astral. The barghest pauses and watches Smohalla go, unaccustomed to seeing a dual-natured being split itself in two so that one half can fly off.

The eagle's head is ringing from his sudden wakefulness, and the forest is a blur of life and color that is difficult to parse, but he still gets a pretty good look as he slaloms through the trees scanning for additional interlopers.


Turning its attention back to the party, the barghest moves forward slowly. Reaching the edge of the clearing, most of its attention seems to be focusing on Jake. It doesn't growl or act overly hostile. If anything, it seems to be studying the astral link between Jake and Stogie.

Jake: Boss? Boss???? Stogie????? You there?????

Stogie: Yeah, Jake. Steady, Boy. If it really wanted to eat us it would already have attacked. Remember our teamwork, Jake. Stay where you are. It can't attack us both this way. If it goes for you, I got it covered. Good work, Boy.

Jake rises to his feet, ready to react, but keeps his position in a stance like a tennis player's... alert, but not aggressive. Without Stogie's prompt, though, he draws on the powers still linked to him. Tough, fast. Hard to kill.

Smohalla's inert form suddenly twitches with life.

He raises his head from the ground to regard Ellesar and Stogie.

It seems that this one is alone.

The barghest looks back and forth, not sure who to watch:

1) the eagle that splits itself in two, zips around astrally, and then reunites its two halves; or,
2) the Awakened man with a magical link to his dog that transfers power back and forth; or,
3) the border collie, fueled by its connection to a human, that packs on magical muscle mass, its body hardening while its nervous system sharpens.

The only person who doesn't seem to be warranting much attention is Ellesar. The barghest doesn't seem to be particularly threatened by any of the proceedings. If it was, you'd probably know. Instead, it stops and sits back, waiting to see what will happen next. Barghests aren't notably intelligent, but you could swear this one has a bemused expression on its face.

Ellesar sits down, watching the others as if watching a movie. "I have no idea what is going on here. And I especially have no clue how my subconscious came up with Raveteeth, but this is getting boring. I get better action than this when I'm awake." He's obviously still very convinced that he is dreaming.

Stogie, could any of your powers over animals aid us?

Perhaps it is just hungry.

Smohalla takes a moment to truly study the aura of the barghest.

Stogie keeps an eye on the barghest. "Just knowing animals, this thing is more curious than hungry. Maybe ... maybe it's a pet?? I'll see if I can get it to settle into a friendly attitude."

Stogie turns the gun up so it is not pointing towards the barghest and doesn't look like a club either. He takes a step towards the beast, focusing friendliness and curiosity into his own voice. "Hey, big guy. You look like you could use a snack. How about some of this?" Stogie takes some of Jake's biscuits out of his pocket and places them on the ground. Then he backs away.

Jake's ears perk up. Whuf. My snackies!

Smohalla's head is still a little fuzzy but he manages to get an okay look at the barghest.

Not wanting Ellesar to spook the beast, Smohalla did not correct him.

A calm, bored Ellesar was a safe Ellesar at the moment.

Smohalla relaxed into a sitting position and watched and waited.

Stogie turns on his famous Stogie charm, which is legendary among the dogs, sheep, and horses of the county. The magic colors his voice on the astral, tinting it gold. Smohalla can see the words infused with magic, a beam of sun shining out of Stogie's lips, sugary and dripping with honey.

The effect washes over the barghest. The animal can see the waves washing over it and pressing into its ears. Apparently it enjoys the candy-coated sensation. It steps forward toward Stogie, approaching the rosy river of sweet nothings. It lowers its head and raises its eyes. It investigates the dog biscuits as an afterthought. It bites one gingerly, less out of true interest than a desire to please this Casanova of canines.

"Awww. Who's a good boy? You're a good boy!" Stogie smiles at the barghest, speaking in a sing-song voice, holding back from actually scruffing it's neck, though.

Whuf? I'm Stogie's good boy! Jake is almost vibrating, staying in place but aghast at the treatment this strange thing is getting from Stogie.

It's OK, Jake. You're my special good boy. Stay now. "OK, gentlemen. Maybe I can lead this fellow away. Pray for me."

Stogie starts toward the forest, speaking in an excited, happy voice, "Alright big guy. Come on!" He indicates their direction of travel. "Let's find something out there!"

The barghest looks a little perplexed but tentatively follows Stogie. It looks back at the group a couple times, uncertain of whether it would prefer to remain behind or follow Stogie.

"Atta boy. Let's see if we can find some good thing out there for you to chase." Stogie searches, physically and astrally, for something in the forest that can draw the barghest away on a good, long chase.

The barghest follows Stogie, looking at him quizically. It's not quite sure where this is all leading. Barghests, after all, do not chase their prey. Barghests casually meander up to their petrified victim and devour it at their leisure.

Before he wanders out of the range of their commlinks, Stogie fills in the rest of the team about his attentions. <<@team: I'm circling around the camp, spiraling outwards, to find the trail of something big this guy might be interested in eating. Don't know how long before the terrain and distance block our commlinks, but I'll check in every five minutes or so.>>

Stogie begins a methodical search around the perimeter of the settlement, and works outwards in the way canids tend to do. He exaggerates sniffing and looking for the benefit of the barghest, in the hopes of encouraging it to do the same... and is glad the rest of the team is not watching.

Stogie beams a message out into the silence of the forest, the signal disappearing into the starry night sky. He gets no response, and looks down at his commlink to see if it's working. It's some sketchy knock-off brand with "Commlink" written on the side of it in peeling paint. Does it even have an operating system? He's not entirely sure if he remembered to install one. Besides all that, Ellesar is probably asleep - or convinced that this is all a dream - while Smohalla wouldn't know a commlink from a credstick.

Sighing, he makes his way into the blackness. The temperature drops as he moves away from the fire. He pulls his collar up to ward off the chill creeping down his neck. It's an odd position he's found himself in, leading a barghest deeper into the forest. Stogie doesn't have the low-light abilities of his teammates so progress is slow as he attempts to avoid falling on his face. He turns around to see two red eyes and glowing teeth floating along behind him. He takes a deep breath and resumes his trek.

Jacking up his senses, Stogie turns into a human tracking machine. He smells his way through the forest, taking what he's learned from Jake and putting it to the test. As the mental connection with Jake fades away, the last thing Stogie can feel is a whimper.

Stogie walks toward the small pond not far from camp, reasoning that large prey likely use it as a watering hole. He pulls himself over a large rock in his path, hoping the barghest doesn't take the opportunity to bite him in the butt. He finds his way to the pond and starts to circle it. It's only a third of a kilometer around the pool, at most. But, just as his instincts guessed, there is a well-used path through the bushes used by large game. Stogie can smell that some animals have passed through here recently, within the last hour or so. He turns to see the barghest sniffing around too. Stogie juts his chin in the direction of the trail but the barghest remains unmoved. Stogie pipes up, "Go on, git," but yet it remains. Finally he works up one of his dog whistles, charging it with Talent, piping it out sharply with a shrill tone. Whether it's his body language or the magic or the sound that speaks to something in the barghest's instincts, the beast finally gets the hint. It bounds up the trail, crashing through the ferns the bushes on its way out of sight. Stogie waits for a minute. For a moment he can swear that the red eyes turned and blinked at him once more before disappearing into the night.

Stogie finds his way back to camp, Jake eagerly awaiting his return while Ellesar slumps over sideways.

Stogie surveys the clearing. OK, Jake. he whistles quietly the command to stand down. Jake relaxes, but his ears stay perked up. Stogie nods to Smohalla, and takes the seat he had when all of this started. "Should be alright, now." He maintains his watch.

The night proceeds. Ellesar was barely awake to begin with, so he has no trouble falling back asleep. It takes Smohalla a little longer the settle down. The extra mana of the site is almost caffeinating the air. Jake slides up to Stogie, relieved for his safe return and eager to reassert himself as Stogie's pet of choice. He curls up at Stogie's feet, occasionally opening an eye to ensure that Stogie hasn't run off with some new red-eyed tramp.

Stogie's principal enemy over the next few hours is boredom. The fire keeps him warm and his heightened senses make it easy to keep watch. He feels confident that nothing else is creeping around outside of his notice. That leaves him with several hours to pass the time. He whistles quietly to himself, circling the campsite occasionally to casually identify the surrounding trees and plants. He contemplates putting his knife skills to work on a bit of carving.

Finally, the sky begins to lighten. The sun won't rise for quite a while because it will be blocked by the surrounding mountains, but the stars begin to retreat from the glow in the east. It looks like it will be another decent day, partly sunny with some clouds here and there. Not bad weather for the mountains in November.

As the hours while away under Stogie's watch, he is reminded of those days when as a boy he would watch over the sheep or the cattle for hours on end. Nothing like that barghest ever showed up, but there were a few interesting moments. Remembering them keeps him from drifting off once again.

Interesting, he thinks, how the barghest just wandered into the camp. The Sisters have been here a while and the magic of the ley line is strong. It must know of them. Maybe it knows the Sisters directly. Might be good to ask them about it. He thinks about taking a cooled piece of coal from the fire and drawing moustaches on the guys, but then he thinks better of it. Then another idea hits him.

I wonder if in this area of enhanced magic, there are some interesting plants growing. He decides to make the circuits around the camp more interesting by checking the flora for anything interesting.

Smohalla wakes with the coming of the dawn.

He once more shifts to eagle form to hunt for breakfast.

This will also give him a better opportunity to view the surroundings.

He keeps one eagle-eye open for signs of their late night visitors.

Bear or barghest, he is curious to know where their journeys took them.

Ellesar wakes up shortly after Smohalla. He yawns and stretches as he rises.

Seeing the others already moving about his mood begins to lift. Finally, a peaceful morning. He picks up his bow and slings his pack across his shoulder. Whistling, he saunters off towards the lake.

Stogie paces around the campsite while the others sleep, perusing the local plant life. The distribution of paranormal species doesn't appear to be significantly enhanced by the magical nature of the site. He finds a Douglas-fern, a curious plant in a symbiotic relationship with the tall evergreen Douglas-firs that surround you on all sides. Some moths lay their eggs on Douglas-fir trees, and the larvae feed on the tree after they hatch. The Douglas-fern, in turn, slowly and methodically scales up and down its host tree, consuming any eggs or larvae that passes over. It might be fun to see, but it takes a week for a fern to make a lap up and down a tall tree, so it's one of those things that are more interesting to watch via time lapse photography.

Sadly, the Douglas-fern has little intrinsic value of its own, but it does give Stogie the idea that he might poke around for some reagents, with herbal reagents being the most likely candidate. It's a time-consuming process, but luckily he has several hours before the lads awake.

After scouring the area for five hours, Stogie identifies two handsome specimens of Hellhound's Tongue. The plant itself it unremarkable - other than it's striking orange and red pigmentation - but the seeds are valuable to an alchemist. The only use that Stogie is familiar with off the top of his head is the charismatically named Bad Dog No Biscuit^TM compound. The solution only works on canines; when injected or ingested, it somehow blocks their vocal chords, making them mute. Making your neighbor's yippy dog shut up is an amusing application but only for those with the nuyen to spare, as a single dose will set you back a few thousand nuyen. A more intriguing target market is shadowrunners worried about canine security, especially the Awakened variety. Bad Dog No Biscuit is prized by runners who occasionally stumble across hellhounds and barghests, as it is effective in curbing some of their more terrifying critter powers.

Stogie hums to himself lightly as he fetches the talislegging kit from his backpack. He removes the small, sharp silver knife from the kit and goes to work methodically scraping the underside of the hellhound's tongue plants for their seeds. Half an hour later he has a tiny plastic pouch full of black dots no larger than poppy seeds from the first plant. Pleased with his success, he moves on to the second plant. Collection there goes just as smoothly, yielding a second pouch. They won't be useful until they're refined, but - as it happens - Smohalla knows something of this. Stogie will have to ask him about it when the eagle wakes up.

With the morning air whistling through his feathers, Smohalla is happy.

He feels the surge of the power of this place in his very bones.

New insights and awareness are slowly seeping into his consciousness.

He wonders how long they will stay.

Time spent here would be very valuable time spent, indeed.

Smohalla's early-morning flight provides him a majestic view of the surrounding cliffs, plus Mt. Rainier glowing in the early morning light. The air is cold but the visibility is good. Gazing below, he cannot find any obvious trace of the bear or the barghest or where they may have gone. They emerged from the forest and slipped back into it. There's no obvious trail or dens visible from above.

Looking for breakfast, it seems that there's a reasonably varied menu available. The deer and elk are probably a little ambitious for the eagle, but the small mountain goat perched on the cliffside is an intriguing possibility. The young buck is starting to add a thick layer of winter fur and Smohalla still needs to figure out a solution for his jacket that was cut to shreds the day before. His clothes are warm but another layer to ward off the chill would be nice.

Smohalla also picks out a snowshoe hare hopping around one of the snowfields extending down the north slope of Rainier. It's smaller but would certainly easier to carry back to camp.

The elf continues his trek, eventually reaching the edge of the lake. He walks along the bank, scouting out the area for any animals that may be enjoying the water.

Ellesar walks toward the lake. It's early and he's not exactly alert yet so he's startled when he practically kicks a grouse and it goes flying straight up into his face. After a few alarming seconds of flapping feathers, the bird flutters off a short distance and looks at him irately.

The young mountain goat is unaware of the danger it is in.

Perched on the cliffside, it is sure-footed when climbing.

However, if something were to push the mountain goat...

It is a long way to the bottom of the cliff.

Smohalla begins his dive, readying his talons for the aerial maneuver

Smohalla tucks himself into a feathered missile, cutting through the cold mountain air like a tawny lightning bolt. The mountain goat - the young, white, soft symbol of innocence - chews its last meal of sweet green grass with carefree ignorance, unaware of the oblivion that awaits it.

Smohalla's dive is well-practiced but he has a tricky proposition. The mountain goat is larger than his normal prey and Smohalla can't tackle it at full speed (200 KPH) without breaking himself in the process. Instead, he pulls up at the last second, attempting a glancing blow that will knock the goat over the cliff without KOing himself in the process.

It's not as graceful as Smohalla would like, but allowances must be made for the early morning attempt. He swipes the mountain goat off its perch, dislodging its footing and sending it, bleating and flailing, down to the dull grey rocks a hundred meters below. It hits the ground and bursts like a flour sack full of strawberry ice cream; there's an audible crunch as its bones shatter and organs rupture. The meat might take a bit of cleaning.

A cry of success goes up from the soaring eagle.

He quickly circles and lands near his kill.

Judging the weight of the body and the distance back to camp, he considers.

Would it be easier to walk back carrying the carcass?

Or should he eat his fill, then fly back carrying what he can of the remains...

Smohalla is at the edge of Carbon Glacier, or what remains of it after the eruption. He's about two kilometers west-southwest of camp. While it would be a gentle downhill walk most of the way, much of the trek would cross the moraine that rests at the foot of the old glacier. It's the broken rock and debris picked up, carried along, and dumped out by the glacier at its terminus. The rocks are loose and unstable, making them far better terrain for a mountain goat than for an eagle masquerading as a man.

Smohalla decides that now is a good time to test the magic of this place.

(and, he figures, he is far enough away from his friends in case things go badly and there is an explosion of some kind)

Tense with the excitement of the moment, blood still singing from the recent kill, he closes his eyes.

He reaches into the astral, into the spirit of the mountain, and sends out a whisper of power.

The whisper carries his request deep into the bones of the mountain, into the ravines and crevices of the glacier-carved landscape.

Earth spirits aren't Smohalla's specialty - far from it - but you wouldn't know that by the results. His words have barely reached the ground when a mountain spirit explodes out of the moraine like a shell blasting out of a cannon, boulders scattering every direction. Smohalla can't help but raise his eyebrows at the effect. The spirit looks twice as big as what he asked for.

Not only that, but it was easy. It was like the earth was on edge, trembling and waiting for Smohalla to give it the slightest nudge. The mana here isn't quite as overbearing as it is back at camp, but it is plentiful and seems perfectly aligned with Smohalla's magic and traditions. He didn't feel the slightest tug of drain from the effort.

The spirit is an anthropomorphic mass of loose rocks of every size. It complies wordlessly with Smohalla's request, casually scooping up the body of the goat and setting off at a sprint toward camp. Drawing from the mana of the place, it blazes across the rock field, faster even than Smohalla can fly. Within half a minute it's 500 meters ahead and has to stop to wait for Smohalla to stay within range. Smohalla, flapping as hard as he can to keep up with his prodigious conjuration, makes it back in record time. The limp goat is waiting for him by the fire as the spirit folds its arms across its chest. It recedes back into the earth, leaving a pile of heavy rocks in its place.

Smohalla reaches camp and shifts back into human form, dressing himself.

He gathers his small satchel of survival gear and heads to the campfire.

There he begins the project of butchering the goat, separating meat from offal as best he can.

Special care is taken to try to preserve as much of the fur, hide, and sinew as possible.

Sitting, cutting, working, Smohalla quietly sings songs of praise and thanks to the goat's spirit.

How different it is, killing as an eagle according to nature's way, versus killing as a man.

The early morning taste of power, composed of so many flavors, has left Smohalla's blood thrumming.

Whistling while he works, Smohalla makes cleaning a mountain goat look easy. With liberal use of his flint blade, he quickly has the hide separated from the meat, yanking it off almost perfectly intact. Dividing the meat from the bone proves to be the most challenging part - largely because the bones have shattered and relocated themselves in places where bones generally don't go - but Smohalla's on such a roll that it hardly takes him any longer to finish than it would normally.

The end result is just about perfect. Smohalla's hands are a mess but he's proud of his morning's work.

Jake has wandered off to do his morning constitutional, and follows a squirrel uphill a bit. Stogie whistles quietly, a nameless tune meant to occupy some back corner of his mind as he carefully packs away the plant material. Once Smohalla returns, he thinks, I'll ask him about refining this material. Stogie studies the material astrally as he packs it, hopefully being able to identify it better next time.

A .... sound.... scratches at the back of his awareness, and Stogie pulls his attention into the here and now. What, yet another thing coming to eat us? The sound grows and turns into the tell-tale bark of Jake, repeated incessantly and approaching at amazing speed. The dog enters the mental communication range of their Attunement, and Stogie is enveloped with the confusion and fear of the dog.

Jake rockets into the campsite as Stogie grabs his shotgun. Jake barrels past him and whips around on the other side of the fire, still barking, looking back the way he came. What follows a moment later is hard to describe, much less believe. A pile of rocks carrying a dead and disembowelled... what... goat? Explorer Stogie can't help himself. "A spectre of living stone, I presume?"

Stogie levels his gun at the thing, but holds off firing. The aura looks familiar. A spirit, but it feels like Smohalla. The answer comes next, as Smohalla flies down to the campfire and forms himself into human shape. The rocks present the dead animal to Smohalla, who proceeds to skin and dress the animal. Stogie stands down and calls Jake to him. Jake comes, and stills his barking with one last woof.

"Yoo hoo! Oh, yoo hoo!" a sing-song voice calls out from the woods. Ellie's short legs carry her into view, followed ponderously by the ork and the troll.

"Good morning, boys!" she calls, waving her hand to draw your attention. She's wearing a pink dress today, not unlike the one she wore last night. "Does everyone have their pants on?"

Shuffling into view, she stops in front of Smohalla's handiwork and inspects it closely. "Why, Sky-Father, you've been busy! What do you have there, a mine foreman?"

She laughs merrily at her own joke. Her companions barely manage to grunt. They don't seem to share her early-morning energy.

Ellie sniffs, and then her eyes flash to the astral for a second. "Smells like someone's been doing a little summoning before breakfast!" she says with her hands on her hips. "You be careful now," she adds with the wag of her finger. "They have a tendency to take on a life of their own around here. The big ones can get away from you quickly!"

On that note, she claps her hands once and a tiny task spirit appears. She points to a moka pot - an Italian coffee maker - which the task spirit quickly inhabits.

"We're just on our way to our morning ritual. We'll be back in half an hour. Drink all the coffee you want. We'll make more!"

She heads back into the forest with a wave, her two friends trudging along behind her like grumpy sentinels.