A blast of wind made the Golden Eagle tilt to the side, forcing Coraline off balance. Even though she was a master of Elven grace and beauty, she earned herself a bruised knee when she struck it against the floor.
Bleigh.
Coraline didn't want to look for the swords anymore. She was as miserable as the gloomy atmosphere outside...
What she really needed... was a friend. Someone she could talk to... without bias... who'd listen patiently to her complaints... maybe nuzzle her a little bit.
She needed Petty Officer Mittens.
Her ears twitched, hearing movement... Unfortunately, it was the clumsy clomping of human feet-- not the soft pads of the savior she so greatly desired.
She hurriedly rushed out of the corridor, keeping quiet underneath a set of stairs. She was an elf... her footsteps weren't quite lighter than snow, but she was confident enough to avoid detection from human senses.
