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[[ OOC: Oh noes! I thought I said something! Apparently not, but I'm sorry I've been away guise, I've been on holiday and I had no access to the internets! Sorry! ]]
Hunt looked at Featherflight's hand, clenching and unclenching, testing the winds. "Do we know who it is?" He said, pushing himself up from the floor. Not that it makes any difference to me, thought Hunt, a little bitterly. He didn't know any Shard names, except Featherflight.
Featherflight spared a glance for her Keeper, her fingers tingling. "This is Dove Heart. I recognise him." She said, her brow furrowing. She knew Dove Heart to have a powerful artillery of attacks; his onslaught gave little place to find a weak point. She was worried, because all she knew was the way of the winds, and her best attack was also the most draining.
"Here's a thought," Hunt said, obviously not as tense as Featherflight appeared to be, "how do you know who it is?" He watched Featherflight turn to him with a patronising and withering look. He shrugged. Inside, he was more at odds with this situation than he liked to show, and he was trying to stop Featherflight from attacking instantly. On the other hand, he was fairly intrigued by this.
Featherflight sighed and turned back to watch the slowing bus. "It is both complicated and simple," she said, throwing him a smirk, "much like yourself. Because we are all a Shard of the original whole, we know how we each piece together, like a jigsaw. Because we know which piece is which, we can identify each other in this way. And when a Shard comes within a radius of me, I can... taste, if you will, who it is. Or smell." She finished and returned to watching the bus.
Hunt tried to push past her, seeing the bus halt. He was now concentrating on not having a friend hurt, because Featherflight seemed intent on doing so. "Look, can't we just...zoom out of here before they see?" He implored, a desperate tone in his voice. "I don't want a friend to get hurt." Featherflight looked at him, for once, her face a mask of stern rigour.
"Too late. Get behind me, and stay close." She said, her voice cold and tone clipped. She turned to survey the figures facing her, for they had departed the bus. On one hand, Hunt's idea was tempting. She was afraid. But then an idea sprang to mind. "Take my hand," she murmured quietly to Hunt, stretching one out behind her, not taking her eyes from the people.
As he did so, he was suddenly tugged through the air, and was once again sprawled on his feet as he heard, through dazed ears, Featherflight.
YES! She cried joyfully in her head, as she landed a few feet behind her unsuspecting offence and pushed the air infront of her, shouting, "Slam!"
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