"My gods, will you stop following us?!" Etain grumbled, turning to look over her shoulder and glare back at the cloaked figure, hand still outstretched towards them.

"It asks for something you need," Fetch replied calmly. The experienced Courser's words smooth and calm, without any of the irritation Etain felt. It merely made her hotter, angrier, and she felt it bubbling at the back of her throat, threatening to spill over. Well… perhaps not just threatening.

She growled, all too reminiscent of the wolf loping along beside her - despite the fact that Arian rarely vocalised at all. The she-wolf held all the calm and reserve in their pair, and merely rolled her amber eyes as Etain boiled over.

Teeth snapped in the air as Etain spun around, lip peeling back to glare at the hooded figure. Etain could feel the heat exuding from the orange flames licking against the tattered fabric, but despite the light glowing slowly from the fire, the depths of the hood were dark and shadowy. Large, curving horns spiralled upward from ragged holes in the top of the hood. Presumably pulling back from whatever cranium should lurk in the darkness.

Although torn, tattered, the cloak did not burn away under the heat. There was no hint of ash or char on the fabric. The sigil of dripping, melting antlers curving down the front folds of the cloak, spreading from waistband to hem.

"What could you possibly want?" Etain snapped, trying to bite at the outstretched hand that had not lowered, disappointed, a little, when her teeth just slid straight through. A spectre. "Ugggggh you're one of that scarecrow's lot, aren't you?"

Unsurprisingly, the figure did not answer, it's hand unwavering.

Fetch picked up the pace, turning them in a direction Etain wasn't entirely sure of. The dungeon had not yet reveal all its secrets to her. Etain explored because there was nowhere else for her to go. Because she'd rather face annoying ghosts and trapped rooms than deal with what waited for her aboveground. But she had not yet outgrown entirely the leggy-ness of youth. Had not travelled here for long.

She followed Fetch, trying to make it seem like she wasn't actually following.

"'Tis perhaps ripe," Fetch suggested, looking off away from Etain at something in the distance, distracted. Etain decided not to take offence, considering Fetch had already done so about a hundred times before. The Courser was weird, okay?

"Yeah right ripe…" Etain echoed slowly. Not entirely sure what- Oh. The Harvester. With a heavy sigh, one of resignation and exasperation, Etain joined Fetch at their speed. "C'mon then freak," she grumbled. "Let's get ya harvested."