Northstar Vale A storm may be coming, are you ready?

Leea's ears swivelled, pale doves taking to wing, followed shortly thereafter by the northron's soot-sprinkled crown. She was upwind of the summoner but had no need of the faint scent carried by the morning breeze - she knew the voice of Sorin well enough to recognize it. The fae turned south, abandoning her patrol of the borders at the urgency of the warrior's tone. 

The ghost pulled from the timber, loping to meet the dark wraith in the center of the paradise - dark eyes rising to her recruit's curiously. 

"Heil, Sorin," the healer chimed, head tilting vaguely to the side in wait.