The sarcasm rolled off the card-toting gambler as he ascended through the branches. His posture held more indignation than a dowager at the docks, his gesture held more repression than the cock fights an hour before mass, and his eyes more roll than a sailor's gait at high sea. From his lofty vantage, he was able to just perceive the anhule upon the cliff top, the demonic spider having been lost in the scramble of the fight for several moments. a yard back from the lip, the anhule fidgeted as it readied to do something.<br/><br/>Canticle found her blade dragging as it passed through the resisting cords of the net, pulling on her blade even as it passed through them like butter they dragged along its sides. The ebony captive struggled against its clingy grasp as she wrested herself through the new-cut path to freedom. Her dreadlock curled and swished as agitated serpents as they wrung the residue from themselves and she looked from the highwaymistress to the caravan captain in confusion. What was she to do? "You will be safe, but I cannot abide this. Come with me. Leave the thieves to their ends."<br/><br/>At that moment, the caravan captain whipped a dagger through the air at Canticle, curls of blue essence, wafting off the blade in slow-motion tendrils. And though Canticle may have dodged, the dagger was dragged from the sky by the simple expedient of  Coral whipping her hair to tangle the projectile in its many folds. The slightest twinkle of silver essence blurred across her brow along with her image for a moment, had that been reflected? The Thief King takes another step back, then two more. A look to the aft of the train, the approaching ape and the fallen nets, and he took a fourth step towards the woods. A nod over the southern maiden's shoulder directly eye-to-eye with Canticle, and he takes his fifth. No longer did the flame of greed and possession color his face.<br/><br/>