<div class="floatleft">(https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/002/442/653/large/oscar-acosta-rivera-noir-elf.jpg?1461787851)</div><br/>He sucked in a breath of the cool spring air at the alarming and unexpected sight. The body of the elf, plunging toward the ground. Ingram's mind raced. He cursed himself, confused. He should have intervened when he could, but this wasn't what he expected her do do. Why would Thazel throw her hostage out a window? It was difficult to imagine a worse -<br/><br/>Then a second figure - Thazel, plunging downward like a bolt from a ballista. Then she wasn't so much falling as she was shifting and writhing. Then she wasn't so much falling as she was<em>being a giant god damn eagle</em>swooping down to snatch up her hostage and soar away into the night.<br/><br/>Ingram blinked into the darkness, a light breeze ruffling the folds of his cloak where he perched on slim stone ledge, looking somewhat avian himself (if there was anything to see). "Fuck," he muttered. Ingram wasn't certain what he expected, but it certainly wasn't that. A death-defying, vertical chase as the clearly capable drow scaled the side of the tower.<em>Maybe</em>a touch of magically enhanced falling. A rope, perhaps. Ingram expected she might use a rope. He didn't anticipate that she would sprout feathers.<br/><br/>He hurriedly slipped back into the room and closed the window behind him. Then he stood to the side of the doorway, listening and watching for the activity of the guards, for any exit or approach.