Ayla
The area in front of Keyja’s cottage faded away as Mraugathal pushed an image into my mind of a steep cliff, a sheer drop-off into darkness below and nothing but open sky around it, save for a handful of bats swarming around something on the side of the cliff. The image was fuzzy, at first, then it clarified. Those weren’t bats — they were much too big, the size of a large dog, and horrid, with long, bony arms that clawed and shoved, beating their wings against each other as they tried to get at whatever they were swarming on the cliff face. Their intended meal, whatever it was, seemed to be fighting back—I could hear squeals of pain as it lashed out at the creatures, barely keeping them at bay. As they fought and shifted, I got a glimpse of what they were after.