The horses protest was nearly deafening, and the stagger would have put any excellent rider to their best test for sure. She didn't bother to guess what would become of the expensive and well trained animal. It served it's purpose well, but snorting hard and blowing with the sudden effort to try continue running, she knew the time had come. The winds seemed to kick up as she whispered words beneath her breath, and tree's groaned as if in response to the small cantrip. The shimmering cloak seemed to become an unsatable maw, drawing color, context, light and anything that gave her form and shape, into each bound fiber. The horse reared, and unsettled her from the seat. A leg swung around, and slid her from the saddle in a motion of grace that had her upon her feet. The horse was riderless in moments, and the dark demanded, tree's crowding to blot out the light. It wasn't perfect, but it did help. Her voice was quiet as she darted into a small copse of foliage. "So here we are. Mm, what did you say your name was again?"
            With the strain and stress of the horse, it had begun to slow down, allowing him to break down the distance between him and her. The swaying of trees in other wise previously windless forest cued him into exactly what he had thought, and soon a gentle murmur of words spilled over his own dark lips. While she had control of wood, he was of shadow. If any were watching, perhaps a double take would have been given as horse and rider began its pass behind the thickness of tree, but didn't come out of the other side. He drew the steed from a racing gallop to more of a trot, then a slow cantering walk. He didn't want too much sound to be made, even if most of it was masked. Coming upon the felled horse he paused his own and turned his head to scan the surroundings. He didn't say anything, not yet. Instead relied upon hearing and sight to pin point where she might be.
            He would find that a difficult task indeed. The winds played with the direction of her voice, which was constantly moving even if she remained perfectly still. Which she wasn't about to do. Their keen vision was an advantage that any other race would kill to have, more than being able to define shapes and outlines, it was the ability to clearly see what was within the darkness. Though complete camouflage wasnt impossible, it was hard if one wished to get a good stance and easy shot at one's opponent. "We could play this merry 'I spy' game all day until night falls, couldn't we? But then you would never get to know why." She let that thought linger in the air, promising. "And the rewards that could be had...?" The lilting question in her voice left him to ponder that one too. Her voice was suprisingly soft as the winds shifted, certainly trained. Tainted by magics? Why of course. The tree's bent again, shifting in the guiding winds, well worn boots tread silently.
            The horse didn't turn, didn't paw at the ground, didn't make a sound. Or perhaps it did and was simply masked by the shroud of muting darkness. With the lack of light, the natural sight of his kin had kicked in, by passing the sight he used on the surface. Dark eyes scanned over the area, picking up the more vibrant hues of living flesh, and the cooler colors of plants and other flora. His eyes faintly narrowed at her words as they seemed to come from one direction and another, and he turned his head to glance behind him, ensuring that he wouldn't be flanked or caught off guard. "I am patient."
            "So it would seem, and one of the many reasons you interest me." Well then, she was going to divulge her secret. Possibly to one who could shatter everything. But then, that time would come anyways wouldn't it? Valsharess indeed. She almost snorted in derision with the thought. Lloth be damned. All of them be damned. If the Qu'ellar D'Elghinn didn't see it coming, so much the better for her. One less Matron for the pitiful, endless line of females vying for the Spider Queen's attentions. Lips twisted into an unholy smile of grim satisfaction. Every noble had their problems, didn't they? Oh, but then they wouldn't expect the Matron's most beloved, most cherished daughter to turn upon her. The filmy cover of silver shifted again, and she stepped outwards, the crossbow and bolt quite literally leveled at his head. Of course he could kill her if she missed. The question was, would she fire at all? "I've need of one such as yourself..for reasons that are better spoken elsewhere, and not where the eyes and ears of she who can hear all." The place was not warded, of course. She didn't trust easily, nor lightly - as she suspected he would not.
            To the left the horse shifted, giving a shake of its head then a shuddering snort from the flare of wide nostrils. He had drawn the wrap of shadows away, only enough so that he'd be able to easily call them up again and veil himself completely from sight. It was that movement of silver that had him glance off in the direction that she now stood, and he casually noted the bold laden bow before raising his eyes to her face with a lift of ebony brow. With a slight press of thighs he turned the horse around to face her. "One such as myself? I am but a Sargtlin of no importance." She laughed. "You are a liar, and not a very good one I might add." Shoulders lightly lifted, then fell again as he regarded her, completely without the demeanor he had held within the tavern. He held his eyes low to her then, flinching at her touch, and sniveling his answers. Now, now it was different. And now it was his turn to warn. "Word to the wise. The bow would be better lowered as by time the trigger was pressed, you'd be dead." He nodded down toward his hand and shifted it only slightly from the Piwafwi, the small bow was already cocked and ready. Not to mention aimed for exposed flesh.
            The bow was shifted in a hand, and the metallic chink of mithril accompanied the movement as she dropped the bow slowly, out to the side, and then released it to fall with a small spring into a thick bed of moss to her left. The piwafwi fluttered, and cowled features tipped upwards, only to allow a trace of light to play across the noble cut of chin, and lush lips revealed from the edge. "And I did not. You are no Sargtlin..as I stand and breathe." For how long, remained to be seen, too. She stood completely motionless, hands away from the belt around her slender hips. Smooth, cool ebon skin beneath the short tunic of chain leading to the thick, blackened metal ring that allowed her many objects of the trade be concealed well. She watched him warily.
            "I am a far better liar than you think, Lady". Another slight press of thighs and the steed was drawn closer until he was about five feet from her. Swinging a leg over from the side he lowered down to the ground with a soundless settle of feet. Not once did that poisoned tip move itself from her direction, nor did his gaze. He didn't trust female Drow as far as he could throw them. Male ones for that matter. Or hell, better yet, he trusted absolutely no one. Moving off to his right, her left, he lowered to a languid crouch to pick up the bow and step back again. "Who, and what, I am is of no consequence. What do you want? Obviously it was not to assassinate me."