"See any other Sheikah on your travels?" Idris would hear a voice from behind him as he leaped to the tree. A small girl's voice, with multiple emotions mixed in. Disdain. The idea that a Sheikah had been so sloppy as to miss Veitaru's presence did not make a great impression on her. Hope. Meeting another Sheikah, sloppy or not, might have heard word of her father. Irritation. Today was just not a good day for her. Tiredness. She had nearly been asleep when Idris had ascended to the windmill.

No source of this voice would be found if Idris glanced back. The windmill was barren, no sound save the creaking of the windmills fans. Veitaru was only heard when she wished to be. A fallen black cloak that was resting in the shadow of one of the fans was revealed as the fan traveled onward, only to be consumed in shadow once more. But it was abandoned, a relatively loud garment not as useful for active stealth as it was for subtle blending in.