Had she been human, Clotho would have furrowed her eyebrows in perplexed frustration.  Perhaps this Faeles failed to grasp her meaning.  [color=9F8170]”Obviously.”[/color]  Any reasons of his to ignore or even debate such a proposition escaped her.  Torrens had his uses, of course, but she saw no reason to extend any sympathy for a being as despicable as a demon, whose primary function in battle could be accomplished by a sufficiently volatile firebomb.  Pyromancers filled the world, and one as dull, cruel, and unlikeable as Torrens did not warrant any sort of special favor in her mind, particularly risking her life for him.  Faeles’ next statement only furthered her ire with him.  [color=9F8170]”These brutes would slay me as soon as I stepped out, not that I’d even consider trying to reason with them.  To salvage this situation, we must indeed move quickly: away from here, to let the bonfire sort things out for himself.  Either he dies or the orcs do; either way, the Horde remains undetected.”[/color]  

In a high place a squadron of archers amassed, presumably to rain biting steel upon Torrens, and Clotho witnessed their formation.  A moment too late she realized that by not escaping when she had the chance, she doomed herself to easy detection should she so much as flutter.  Ultimately, however, she knew that remaining still would end up being just as foolish as making a scene.  She waited, silent and stooped, while Torrens fanned the flames.  Not seriously challenged so far, he had seemingly swelled in power, emanating a searing aura and brilliant, sunlike radiance.  Now, Clotho reasoned, was the time; all eyes lay on the red-hot spectacle in the settlement’s center, and none but perhaps the arch-thief’s on the dirt-colored insect.  Beating her wings, she took off and flew hazardously low to the ground, zooming in between tents and panicked orcs in a risky bid for speedy departure.