Clint nods in understanding. "OK, lead the way. I'll keep up."

Vanyel bends at the knees and springs into the air as if weightless. It always seemed to surprise Clint how quiet it was when his Owlin friend took to the air. You could rarely if ever hear the rustle of feathers or a sound of whooshing of air.

Clint took after him through the brush trying to keep Vanyel in his sights through the breaks in the treetops stomping through dirt and brush alike, shoving away branches and making a ruckus of himself.

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The pace was frantic because Clint could still hear the telltale sounds of the leathery mosquito-bat Stirges behind him. He was pretty sure they could smell him somehow.

A few times he could hear them get a bit close, but the marksmanship from Vanyel and his bird's eye view of the situation would take one of them down. He could hear behind him the crashing and see when he looked over his shoulder the subsequent struggle that a few would break off to devour opportunistically any blood filled creatures.

But unluckily, that moment of reprieve wouldn't last as Vanyel ran out of arrows to buy Clint some breathing room. Clint had to turn and he let go of a spinning handaxe. He only had 2 of those and 1 of them was stuck to a Stirge behind him in a tree.