Jhinto could not find the runes the had once hidden, and with no clues being left for his own older self, he was pretty lost now.
His body ached and he needed to rest after having been on his hands and knees combing for the runes beneath the moss on every large rock he came across. He resigned to sitting against the large trunk of the twisting tree that grew ever upward.
If he couldn't get out of the mountain, he couldn't deliver the package he needed to so badly. The old 'dog' wasn't out of tricks, though. He had another choice, but it would most certainly lead to his death. He was ancient at this point, and any great strain to his body would more than likely lead to it giving out.
Being the ever-loyal servant he was, Jhinto valued his mission far more than his life, and he was going to see it through. As much as he wanted to spend the day searching for something he may never find, he had two choices from there; teleportation, or transmogrification. Being that he hadn't been out in the woods for decades, the safest best was to change himself into something that was large enough to carry his package, and make it outside the crater.
If he could just make it to to the river, he was sure that he would find Metas or someone in his pack. It was the only vague idea he had of where they were, because he could always hear rushing water when the Goddesses spoke of his location.
It was frustrating he couldn't remember more, but who could blame him with how much time had passed since his youth. Well, if this was it - he was going to enjoy his favorite view in the world before he would take flight.
There were so many factors that he had to consider, but each one made him re-think his choices. What would happen if he didn't make it? How could he protect the assets should he not make it to his destination?
It would seem that his faith would be the final test of his mission. He would just have to do his part, and hope the Goddesses could do the rest. There were very few things those who lived on in the ether could do, and interacting with the physical world was not one of them.
That was fine, though. The old male knew his faith would be enough - one way or the other, they would get his delivery.
It was sad that Harbinger didn't put any care into the magnificent garden. The fact anything grew from this crater of death was beyond a 'miracle'. What had flourished here was a melding of magic and malicious weaponry, and all the colors and different types of flora that grew here.
Some of them were tall and had fat, wide trunks for stems - like the large 'sunflowers' that always faced up to soak in the heat of the day to fuel its growth and produce hard seeds.
Others were small, but hearty little things like the 'rock' mushrooms that grew with a skin so tough that it required diamond knives to slice through; or his favorite - fire violet. For such a small little flower, it sure did pack a punch to someone without shoes on, or in their werewolf forms. It had brilliant violaceous petals were alluring to anyone who crossed them. They were so beautiful that they would glow in both the day and the night time.
In the sun, they had a reddish tint, and in the moon, a beautiful blue that lit the night up like little candles. If one should walk through them in the daytime, they would find their feet burning and aching with pain that needed special salves to fix.
In the nighttime, they were completely harmless - and added a beautiful backdrop to many royal weddings, parties, and crowning ceremonies. Jhinto had seen so many - but not the one he wanted to see the most; Metas' ascension to the throne.
The poor boy he had watched grow and protected with all his might deserved a happy end to his life, and he was the perfect male to lead their society into something better than the tyrannical rule of the current state.
It was time. He needed to take flight before his fear outweighed his duty. He was after all a mortal just like any other, and death was never a fun thing to think about, even if one was reincarnated - it was losing an entire lifetime of work, ambition, and meaning when one died. No one liked losing progress.
It didn't matter right now, anyway. He had lived a long life, and now it was his final goal to help Metas one last time. All Jhinto had to do now, was hold on to his strength and use what he had left into this final transformation.
Finding something to carve into the earth with wasn't too hard, actually. He had found lots of debris laying around from the last storm, and found a particularly stubby stick to carve into the soft dirt with.
He shifted the dirt around until many circles collided with triangles and runes written around them with precision. Jhinto was old, yes - but having carved the same sigils over and over and over again in his lifetime had made it easy to memorize.
He made sure to have the parcel across his chest before he put his hand to the diagrams of magic he had drawn and began to chant lowly. It was a good thing that it was daytime, for the light emitting from the rings and lines would have shown off the fact he was doing something out of the ordinary. It was nearly impossible to see magic in the sunlight - but in the night, it would shine like bright fire.
It didn't take long for the light to envelope his arms, but it did feel like it took an eternity for the soft red glow to crawl up the rest of his body - but what didn't feel too slow when one was in a hurry?
As the rest of the magic came over him, his body shrank into the size of a large falcon, and Jhinto took into the air with all of his might to escape the clutches of Harbinger's wrath.
It would seem the General wasn't as stupid as Jhinto thought, for once he was high enough into the air, he heard the zings of arrows fly past him - and the shouts of Harbinger as he ordered the large bird to be shot down from the sky.