Coming out of her tent with what appeared to be a large, disc shaped shell in her hand, Cynane stood in an open area of the grounds and, with a deft flick of her wrist, snapped the disc open so that it formed two folding arms of a large, heavy compound bow with an ironsight extending from the front on a long shaft. Drawing an oversized arrow from the quiver on her hip, she drew back the string, raised the bow and held it for a moment as she aimed, the well defined muscles in her arms and shoulders as taut as the string beneath her light armour. Then she loosed it and sent the heavy shaft into the atmosphere with a low buzzing sound. There was a thud and a squawk, then after a few seconds, a large bird came fluttering to the ground, impaled on the arrow. Bizarrely, a heavy rain shower that seemed concentrated entirely around the dead bird fell with it for a few seconds.