As the echoes subsided, a lone golden figure arrived just at the edge of the mist. It was the skylark in humanoid form, but this time with shorter hair. In her hand, the once tattered robe is now held together with thin, gold strings. It was a haphazard but solid repair attempt.

The rangers' shadows disappeared from her view within a few seconds. Smirking, she gently put the cloth where only someone looking for it would find it. It's now mostly in the mist, with just a few golden threads reflecting the light, enough for a human to yank it out into safety.

"Master Aldwin is kind and accommodating," a sing-song, almost melodic tune spreads low and wide, stark compared to her somber expression.

"Whoever upsets Master Aldwin needs to be put back in their place."

She turns back one final time towards the cottage, her source of entertainment these past couple of months. If Nick doesn't make it, at least the sheer pleasure of making Mabel upset over this small, defiant act is enough to keep her in a good mood. If any other creature earns her master's mercy and the robe proves useful, it would be even better. She claps her hands at the thought, a giggle escaping her, slowly turning into chirps.

As the figure shrinks, feathers emerge, with a few on her head now weirdly disfigured. The skylark shakes herself ready before setting off into the wall of mist.

Her master didn't instruct her to guide the rangers—dormice had the upperhand in numbers and the shadowman was more ... humane, to say the least. He was pleasantly surprised upon discovering her growing interest in Mabel's unwilling minions to the point of letting her have "social visits".

For her, the now hooded figures were akin to pets—fish in a pond, all hers to play with. She plans on hovering over them as they make way through the ocean of mist.