The books were being less than forthcoming on the question of the spire demon, and Jigano had given himself a thorough headache puzzling through the different languages in the Atheneum with only minor success. Even with deepfrost's bitter cold encouraging humans to stay indoors by warm fires, there was a part of Jigano that chafed at the restrictions of the weather - not least because he found himself woefully underprepared for the sudden onset of winter, and temperatures that rivaled the northlands he'd called home. His clothing no longer bore enchantments to keep him warm, and as such - often did not, outside in the bitter winds.
Besides, he needed to move. To let his body stretch and his mind clear so he could approach the problem from a fresh perspective. He wouldn't get close to the Spire. Not close enough to be in danger, at least, but he needed to see the place the demon called him with his own eyes. He could probably figure out the safe distance, but even if not he was quick on his feet.
And quicker still on four than on two.
Leaving his studies for the time being, Jigano had walked to the edge of the settlement, cloak wrapped tightly around himself until he'd found the solitude of the woodlands in which to change and take on his other shape, no less true than the one he'd just shed - and one he'd spent increasing time in with the change of seasons, just to stay warm. With a shake to settle his fur he'd trotted off, lighter weight and furry paws letting him move over the snow rather than having to force his way through it.
It wasn't long before he stretched out to a run for the sheer joy of it, making his way towards the landmark he sought with confidence in the flash of blue eyes and flick of his bushy tail. He hadn't expected anyone else to be there, but the pony tied at the edge of the trees had him slowing, approaching with caution until he caught a familiar scent from the saddle.
The blond gourd-hunter?
Ears perked forward eagerly, Jigano trotted around the shaggy equine and into the open - not that it made him that much more visible, aside from black nose and blue eyes. But the man he'd hoped to see - was a little ways beyond, on his knees and digging in the snow. Near the spire. Not too near... but near enough that the leggy fox felt his hackles rise as he approached more slowly, senses on alert. He whined as he neared his friend, reaching out a delicate paw to rest on Rory's leg as he looked questioningly from the man to whatever he was trying to uncover in the deep white snow.
Besides, he needed to move. To let his body stretch and his mind clear so he could approach the problem from a fresh perspective. He wouldn't get close to the Spire. Not close enough to be in danger, at least, but he needed to see the place the demon called him with his own eyes. He could probably figure out the safe distance, but even if not he was quick on his feet.
And quicker still on four than on two.
Leaving his studies for the time being, Jigano had walked to the edge of the settlement, cloak wrapped tightly around himself until he'd found the solitude of the woodlands in which to change and take on his other shape, no less true than the one he'd just shed - and one he'd spent increasing time in with the change of seasons, just to stay warm. With a shake to settle his fur he'd trotted off, lighter weight and furry paws letting him move over the snow rather than having to force his way through it.
It wasn't long before he stretched out to a run for the sheer joy of it, making his way towards the landmark he sought with confidence in the flash of blue eyes and flick of his bushy tail. He hadn't expected anyone else to be there, but the pony tied at the edge of the trees had him slowing, approaching with caution until he caught a familiar scent from the saddle.
The blond gourd-hunter?
Ears perked forward eagerly, Jigano trotted around the shaggy equine and into the open - not that it made him that much more visible, aside from black nose and blue eyes. But the man he'd hoped to see - was a little ways beyond, on his knees and digging in the snow. Near the spire. Not too near... but near enough that the leggy fox felt his hackles rise as he approached more slowly, senses on alert. He whined as he neared his friend, reaching out a delicate paw to rest on Rory's leg as he looked questioningly from the man to whatever he was trying to uncover in the deep white snow.
