She was brought out of her contemplations by the shout of the winged-one, making yet another attempt at taking the thief down. At least one had not given up the pursuit, and its enthusiasm in the hunt shamed her and she knew it. The ranger was aware of her own limitations, however, and knew that biding one's time was often the better course of action than relying upon wasteful friction. Why continue a fruitless endeavor against a foe whom has show time and again quickness and agility far beyond her own? Why not, instead, track one's prey to its lair and ambush it when it least suspects it? Setting her bow and pack upon the ground, the hunter carefully placed the scroll into a safe compartment before taking out a piece of ordinary parchment, some cured tobacco, and her flint and steel. The habit may have been filthy, but it also served to focus her thoughts on the situation at hand, the smoke that soon filled her lungs letting some of the uneasiness wash away from her spirit. Letting out a steady stream of smoke and spitting out the tobacco on her tongue, she espied a door that sat upon the street opposite the alley, her arrow having sunk deep into it. Gathering up her weapons and gear, she made her way towards it in hopes that the arrow had remained intact and usable, before setting her sights on the castle ahead.

Turning away from the door's new decoration and hoping that its owner was not at home, the ranger kneeled upon the ground just as the winged-one flew over head back from whence it came. Looking back at it for a moment, she found it to be a peculiar creature but she also envied its spirit and energy. Were all of his kind like that? Mulling it over, she looked on ahead towards the crowd that moved between the castle and herself. If she were the thief she would likely travel low to the ground so as to avoid being seen by any looking directly at the crowd; in which case, she might be able to spot the woman through the mass of bodies, even if doing so was far more difficult than peering through a group of heads. All she had to do was focus on the woman's appearance: long, light brown hair adorned with beads, studded leather armor, and a mask. She was beginning to wish that she had paid more attention to the markings left by the thief's tracks, but perhaps she would be able to overcome her own foolishness. Would the thief be charging forward as quickly as she may, or move at a more relaxed pace to better blend in with those around her? Letting the smoke out of her lungs she tapped the ground with a fingertip, an odd little quirk which always seemed to sooth her when on a serious hunt.

Making her way towards the castle and tracking her prey once more a twisted thought crossed her mind; if she were to toss a flask of alchemist's fire into the crowd, could she possibly strike the thief? The ranger knew better, of course, but she also knew that she was itching for a fight… a desire that was not so easily suppressed.

Her mind becoming more and more clouded, the ranger turned her eyes downward towards the ground before her in an attempt to not only clear her head, but to find some trace of the thief's passage. Once more her heart sank, for the ground was far too hard to keep one's tracks; despite her senses, it appeared as if the mysterious woman had vanished into thin air, lost to her otherwise keen senses. Then, out of the corner of her eye, the ranger noticed two vials laying carelessly around, being kicked to and fro by the shuffling feet of the crowds. With deft movements she grabbed a hold of them with her bandage-covered left hand, before standing up straight so as to get a better view of them in the light of the Sun overhead. One vial was left bare of all but trace amounts of dirt and liquid; neither her knowledge of the overworld nor of the underworld would permit her to learn anything of its contents save the color and scent, neither of which served her any use. The other vial, much to her chagrin, was easily identifiable thanks to its label: “invisibility.” It took every last ounce of the ranger's self control not to crush the vials in her hardened grip.

“Chienne,” she growled lowly after removing the cigarette from her mouth, letting the hot smoke rush out of her lungs before taking in a long, deep breath of cool air. Her harried mind told her to laugh at the fact that she had been proven a fool, but her body could not acquiescence the command. Instead she settled on placing the burning stick back between her lips and slipping the vials into the same pocket that housed the scroll, before cracking her knuckles and glaring sternly upon the castle. Immediately a feeling of intense serenity befell her; the battle may have been over, but the war had only just begun, after all. Closing her eyes for a moment she tried her best to focus her hearing on any kind of noise that might sound peculiar; a misplaced footstep, the sound of a body carefully moving past another, an anxious heartbeat… anything that would seem out-of-the-ordinary. The woman could not put much stock into her own, human abilities, but as she slowly made her way towards the castle once more, she knew that she couldn't give up on hope just yet. At the very least, she would contemplate giving up on hunting the beasts of the wild for a time and learn to hunt the beasts amongst her own kind.