Assessing the situation as being as good as it's likely to get, Bast again settles herself to cast, eyes closing, her hands forming a circle that she brings up to her chest. The temple in her mind is the same, but her chanting this time draws the smoke of the incense into the shape of a falcon. When it had coalesced, each detail distinct but translucent, she leaned forward and breathed a whisper to the sacred bird.<em>Find Mindjack,</em>she bade the creature, embuing the name with the essence of everything she knew about that villain. As her breath merged with the falcon's phantom form, the bird ruffled its feathers, shrieked and took flight.<br/><br/>Dizzy with the effort she'd put into the casting, Bast sank down onto one of the boxes, blinking to clear her vision. If the spell had worked, she would soon have a sense of where the bird was going. If she'd done the ritual properly and in full, she would see through its eyes, but that much was doubtful in such strained circumstances. Her attention went to the sounds of battle continuing outside. There seemed fewer energy bolts now; hopefully, that meant they were wearing down the enemy's first response.