Moonspear her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs

He hears the call, an ever vigilant gargoyle of Moonspear's many secret paths and ridges; it rose and faded, but Revui knew where it originated and wasted no time. He hoped it was someone less wholesome than Bee - the boy yearned for a fight  for something to break him out of yet another monotonous patrol.

As he came crashing out of the tree line he made a point not to slow down, and nearly careened in to the stranger waiting so patiently. He leveled his sharp gaze upon them, filled with a crackling fury, but stopped before any collision. She had been looking for sentries? She'd found something far less regimented. 

Revui does not speak, but watches her expectantly. His expression is cold and hard like the mountain; he is impatient, and waits for her to clarify her purpose. Something malevolent in his demeanor gives the impression that he will not wait much longer.