The bird settled, but a shadow continued to move, hazy and uncertain just out of focus. Vultan's attention snapped to it, and he rose fluidly out of his crouch. Moving before his mind had even caught up to what his eyes, his instincts, were telling him.

The pigeon took flight again, startled and wary, and the corner of his mouth twitched downward in frustration; but his gaze was fixed.

His grip on the knife was a mirror of hers.

"Then what do you mean?"