He felt more than heard the deer gust down to the ground. The moving bank of cold crystallising air coalesced and the laughing deer emerged as if from nowhere, prancing from hoof to cloven hoof. The shimmering mail, which he dutifully cared for, had nonetheless seen better days, with entire sections missing and his green cloak torn and frayed. His fur, which when Silvertalon had first met him back in the Dragonlands had once been a shimmering coat of silvery white and subtle blue hues with the hint of brown at the base, was slowly but definitely shifting colours, with the brown becoming more prominent and the blue seeming to shimmer green in places when the light hit it a certain way.