Ari'al could only watch in bemusement as the goat leapt down from Hirem's grasp and limped into one of the nearby tents. Her hands fell away from Zefirah's reins and onto Raziel's shoulders as she saw a bright flash of white emanate from the tent, followed by peals of laughter.
Magic. Ari'al had never trusted magic. It seemed to her that trying to get involved in it was more dangerous than it was worth. Besides, it was...unnatural. Unnerving, at least to her. The idea that a person could assume the form of another, or read her mind without her ever knowing any better, made her shiver.
Leave that to the gods, she had always thought.
Such things aren't for us mortals to play around with for our pleasure.
But it seemed that the...goat was magic? Something in the tent was, at least, although perhaps it wasn't the goat itself. She had no idea what sort of magic, since she had never really bothered to study the different branches of magical disciplines and figure out what they all were and what they meant. However, she could think of no other explanation for the flash of light she had just seen. Hirem was saying something, trying to explain away what had just happened, and she turned her attention on him. Had he known something was off about the goat?
“What's going on here?” she asked, drawing herself up to her full height and looking him straight in the eye. Such tactics typically worked wonders on all the other people she had ever tried to work the truth out of.
But then a feminine voice rang out from the tent, calling Hirem's name, and he began muttering that the goat belonged to his friend, or something along those lines.
“Come, you must meet her,” he was saying.
Ari'al glanced around the caravan, which seemed perfectly normal otherwise: people and animals bustling around, tending to their business. No other magic to be seen. Hesitating slightly, she ducked through the tent flap after Hirem, tugging Raziel's hand. He had been silent through the entire exchange, staring at Ari'al, and then Hirem, and then the tent, with confusion written across his young face.
Inside the tent, lying haphazardly on the ground as she wrapped her ankle with cloth, was a young woman with closely-cropped brown hair and the eyes of a goat. Ari'al stood stock-still, staring as she began to put the pieces together.
“Where'd your goat go?” Raziel asked, his mouth pursing in suspicion as he searched the tent for his new friend.