"Ladies…"
"Let the hunt begin."
Kitsara's body shimmered, and she reshaped herself into something built for stealth and speed: a large-bodied, long, lithe hawk with silver-black feathers and three trailing tails that split into smaller winglets. The transformation kept some of her fox-sly charm, but every line of her new form was made for the purpose of achieving her purpose.
Black Fang, however, did not climb onto her back. Instead, she reached out with a single, elegant motion and looped an arm around Kitsara's offered ankle. Even in midair, even in a pose that to most would look precarious, she held herself with the poise of a queen on a throne. Her robes fluttered; the katana at her hip hardly moved.
For a long second, Quinlan found himself watching before forcing his eyes away. The sight of that cold, lethal woman dangling from the leg of a strange-looking bird his wife cooked up in her unique mind was both absurd and hypnotic at once.
