Dawn was breaking in the east. Beyond that she knew nothing.
    For the last eight hours her world had consisted of beating wings, frigid air, the softly wheezing bundle in her arms, and the constant pain in her joints. It had been a nerve wracking journey into the churning mists, riding blind for hours with nothing but the sounds of the lead chocobo to guide her. Yet there had still been anchors. The scents and sounds of the earth had told their own stories of her journey through woodlands and mountains. Here in the sky there was nothing but beating wings, frigid air, the softly wheezing body in her arms and the faint light of dawn breaking in the east.
     Bending over her charge for perhaps the hundredth time that night, Klynzahr attempted to shield her more effectively from the biting wind. Stiff with cold herself, the sea wolf could do nothing but slide her own arm around Xanadu's horned head to break the wind a little. Her chilled fingers burrowed deeply into the rented chocobo's feathers, never attempting to guide the bird. Blind and lost, Klynzahr was gambling two lives on the homing instincts of a tailfeather hunter's chocobo.
     She jerked awake sharply as the chocobo's landing sent a lance of pain through her back. Panic swelled in the blind Sea Wolf's chest, muting her senses with fear. Straining her eyes to their limit, showed nothing but a green blur. She was utterly lost.
    Then she slowly became aware of new leaves whispering overhead. The air was cool, with taste of spring greens, and to her left a small brook babbled over stones. Two pairs of footsteps were approaching, with light leather boots on hard packed earth.
   "Please," She called out shakily to the pair, "Where is this?"
    Their reply sent a warm shiver of hope through her. "Tailfeather!"
    For the last eight hours her world had consisted of beating wings, frigid air, the softly wheezing bundle in her arms, and the constant pain in her joints. It had been a nerve wracking journey into the churning mists, riding blind for hours with nothing but the sounds of the lead chocobo to guide her. Yet there had still been anchors. The scents and sounds of the earth had told their own stories of her journey through woodlands and mountains. Here in the sky there was nothing but beating wings, frigid air, the softly wheezing body in her arms and the faint light of dawn breaking in the east.
     Bending over her charge for perhaps the hundredth time that night, Klynzahr attempted to shield her more effectively from the biting wind. Stiff with cold herself, the sea wolf could do nothing but slide her own arm around Xanadu's horned head to break the wind a little. Her chilled fingers burrowed deeply into the rented chocobo's feathers, never attempting to guide the bird. Blind and lost, Klynzahr was gambling two lives on the homing instincts of a tailfeather hunter's chocobo.
     She jerked awake sharply as the chocobo's landing sent a lance of pain through her back. Panic swelled in the blind Sea Wolf's chest, muting her senses with fear. Straining her eyes to their limit, showed nothing but a green blur. She was utterly lost.
    Then she slowly became aware of new leaves whispering overhead. The air was cool, with taste of spring greens, and to her left a small brook babbled over stones. Two pairs of footsteps were approaching, with light leather boots on hard packed earth.
   "Please," She called out shakily to the pair, "Where is this?"
    Their reply sent a warm shiver of hope through her. "Tailfeather!"
