Indeed, the logic was sound.
Shortly, just a few hundred yards from the Cloud Domain camp, the figure of Boswell was spotted.
He was perched on the roof of a civilian house, overlooking the battlefield, his face obscured by that bronze mask, with a bald bird resting on his shoulder.
Drawing closer, the rockwolf could distinctly pick up his scent— A scent it could never mistake.
Old grievances and fresh animosities surged in its heart all at once.
Utilizing the shadow cast by the building to conceal its approach, the rockwolf moved silently closer.
However, Boswell's sensory acuity was too sharp, particularly the vulture on his shoulder, which seemed to sense impending danger and squawked loudly, forcing the rockwolf to launch its attack prematurely.
Regrettably, it was a fraction too late.
The vulture suddenly enlarged, kicking off with its feet and spreading its wings, taking Boswell into the air.
