The close call didn't seem to phase him, as Dietre allowed himself the simple pleasures of the Second Form. It was liberating, to be able to run so freely. How long had it been since he'd been able to do such a thing? If he was to trust the chattering blue droid that followed Arya about like some lovesick a'kha'ru, then it was hundreds of years.

A particularly large shrub loomed ahead, and the vornskr bunched his muscles as he surged ahead, bursting straight through in a shower of snow and leaves, back into the streaming sun.

His nose found Arya's scent easily enough, and he veered off, claws digging into the soft earth and propelling him forward at a greater pace as he caught up with her easily.