A much more potent missile was coming for Jazen, a dark one rather than a bright glowing one, but one with a consciousness, and a curious missile.  Ruki dove off the building a good three hundred yards ahead of Jazen, shifting her form to liquid shadow as she fell.  It splattered onto the pavement with a wet splash and then slowly drew together again, taking its original form.  She stood there and waited for the wolf, leaning against a building on the corner.  With any luck he might pick /her/ up too, or perhaps he would recognize her.  She thought he might, but it /had/ been quite a few hundred years.