Just as she herself was returning now, only not in the way she was meant to. It was not a coalescing of Fear particles, taking shape into the body of the horsewoman until she slowly faded back into existence. No, instead it was tendrils of fog, slowly gathering, condensing, expanding. Instead it was whispers, a repeat, a mantra of the word home. The figure that arose was not Shaheen at all, though to some who knew her they might recognize her shape within the fog, the grey spread of wings behind her back. The glowing yellow eyes narrowed into angry slits.
Home...
A hiss as the foggy figure began to move, sliding off into the mist.
