It had been a cold night, one many would have perished in had they lacked the warmth and comfortable embrace of a tent and sleeping bag. Dina lay on the forest floor with only a padded blanket between her and the hard earth, and the only shelter a thin, worn blanket that might have kept the cold from biting into her skin, and though she was aware of the cold in some far, distant part of her mind, the conscious part ignored it. She remembered the transformative potion that her mentor had forced her to drink all those years back that would change her slowly but surely into what she was now, and some distant part of her wondered if she was even still human. Not that it mattered, and the memory of her mentor dying, and not by her own hands, flashed once more hot and clear in her mind. She embraced the cold, a core within her that was as untouched as the deepest glaciars, and let it cool her, cool the pain of the memory.<br/><br/>Her attention turned to her familiar, Jet, who slumbered lazily on a tree branch not far away. The bird had kept watch over her for much of the night, and only recently had he succumbed to the fatigue and fallen asleep. She poked at his mind through their connection, and felt the stir of his mind in some strange dream, the thrill of the chase and the kill as he took down a mouse. A memory of before they had come together to form the strange bond that passed for that of a familiar and its master. Her own memory slowly dwindled, and one of Jet's eyes opened blearily.<br/><br/>From the place where the two men had slept she heard the one less familiar, Grigori, call to her, and as her attention shifted from her familiar she too heard the sounds of running footsteps. "Jet," she murmured, and the raven gave a quick nod, finally fully awake, before taking to the sky in the direction of the noises. "Grigori," she said the man's name after rising in acknowledgement. They had only come together recently, the three of them, and she wondered who he had trained under. They had only met recently, having been brought together by the mutual hatred of a shared enemy. Witches rarely worked together, but when they did they were often a force to be reckoned with--one that a certain Count would be all too familiar with, if they had their way. Finally she gave a courteous nod to his own familiar, though she did not deign to speak its name.<br/><br/>Hair tousled from the sleep, her face was a visage of cold, icy and distant as she looked away from Grigori and back into the fog. "We'll let Jet see what he can find," she tells Grigori as she glances back towards where they had slept, wondering how long it would take for the last of them to wake. Jet, on the other hand, flies through the fog, a silent shadow before reaching a tree close to where the man is and coming to a rest high atop it before examining the man.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">Jet's Stealth check: 22 (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4304682/)</div></div>