"Wolves?" Erreth asked, raising a brow with something akin to disdain, "I could see little purpose in running from those, as Zya has so much experience deterring them. A rabid dog is a bit of a different affair than a wolf pack; theirs is a coordinated hunt. All my partner need do is conjure up a deer, or something to that degree, and make sure it's 'smellable'."
"We've run into several wolves on our travels," Zya explained, "So I had to learn how to distract them, at least long enough for ourselves to get away."
"And as for honor, madam," Erreth continued, fluffing his fur in what he thought was a very regal way, "I have honor. I'm just not prepared enough to throw myself into something when I know that I'll either get in the way, or know that the two of us are in way over our heads. Miss Zyanith here doesn't know enough about her Craft to quite allow me complete ease, but she was the best I could do on short no- AGH!"
Erreth hit the floor, instantly proving the "Cats land on their feet" theory completely wrong by in fact landing, instead, on his black-furred head. Zyanith calmly put her empty mug back onto the table as the small cat managed to sit upright, though he was obviously reeling a bit both from a mug-to-the-face, then a floor-to-the-face. Once he regained what was left of his composure, he glared up at Zya.
"That was uncalled for."
Zyanith looked at him with the beginnings of a smirk. "Refill, please."
