Ombre watched the man trip, face unreadable. She bobbed in the air gently, arms hanging limp and lacking any sort of body language. One might think she was ignoring him completely if it weren't for the way her eyes followed his face. When he fell she moved forward to maintain the same amount of distance between them, but came no closer. There was a long silence following his words and his climbing back to his feet, before Ombre slowly reached inside her robe, reaching for something--
-- before producing a small pouch containing a mouse, a cracked marble, and a recipe for custard. Without any sort of explanation, she gripped his wrist like lightning and dropped the bag into his hand. The mouse squeaked and leapt out, but Ombre either didn't notice or didn't care. She let go and drifted back through the tree; there was something else interesting here.
A woman had followed Ombre through the forest, and it was on her that the Wraith now rounded. She stared intently at the soldier, though why was anyone's guess. Perhaps she just wanted to find out why the mordecai had been tailing her for so long. Maybe she liked the woman's trousers. Really, how would you tell?