Peering about, the rogue bowed his head to shade his sight from the sun a moment, it was a thick, cloudy day, with sunlight breaking through only  every so often. Yet this was still more then he liked... A noise caught his attention, good, reinforcements had come to back up the 'farm'. Good, because he was tired of waiting. Rolling from the roof, he hit the ground with more dust cloud then noise, breaking into an even jog for the waters separating him from the blacksmith. With a leap, and flexing his long, lean body into a spear shape, he hit the surface with a knife, offering little splash as he slipped under the murky water, talons reaching for stones embedded in the riverbed. It was slow goings, pulling himself along the bottom, bringing himself around, under the bridge, on his way to the side of the Smith's island that was closest the Stables...<br/><br/>For not the first time that day, he wished it would rain. Rain, such a calming, perfect thing; it washed everything away, troubles, regrets, blood stains. Here, submerged indefinitely under the water, having no need to breath, the water was all he felt, outside the rot of his own flesh as it was trapped in that estranged state... He loved the feel of the rain, the sound as it pitter pattered upon the earth, masked the world in a veil of fluid movement that made him all the more unseen... He was passing under the bridge now. Just a little further...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>