Mordavo awoke sometime later; opening his eyes, the coyote's yellow irises seeing quite clearly in the darkness of the shed, he reared up and rested his paws on the windowsill. He noted the position of the moon's shadows on the lawn. He'd noted the moon's position a couple of nights before, when he had slept in a hayrick outside of some village in the Lake District, and judging by what his soldier's senses had learned for the purposes of telling time and navigating for night actions, he could tell that it was not actually terribly late; in fact, if he was any judge, it wasn't much past midnight.
What awakened me? he wondered. Not a scent or a sound, of that he was certain. dulled by his human form, his coyote's senses were not acute in that guise, but when he became the coyote, those senses and his newly-acquired sense for the supernatural were not only fully asserted, but actually enhanced. In the instant that he remembered that, he realized what had caused him to wake: Either stirring spirits, or another were or similar being close by. He paused, torn; should he change, don his clothes and check the grounds in human form, or perform such action as the coyote? He opted, finally, for changing and dressing, but keeping the coyote's eyes; he could feel that the lupine muzzle had not quite dissolved into the more human features of the rest of his face, but under the circumstances he figured it probably wouldn't matter much.
"The Miss is probably quite capable of takingk care off herself, " he muttered under his breath, "But better safe dan zorry." Taking the rather antique-ish largebore howdah pistol from the inner pocket of his frock coat, he checked the frizzens of both barrels, and made sure the strike plates were properly set; he had reloaded the pistol (upper barrel with lead, the lower with silver, just in case) not six days before, after helping to see off a highwayman on the highroad who'd tried to rob the coach he had taken from the harbor at which he had arrived from the mainland. He unbolted the door, stepped out into the cool and breeze of the night, and began checking the outer curtain wall. he completed his circuit, and muttered, "Hmpf. nothing." he raised his head; he still picked up the odor which was not precisely an odor of something not unlike magic; he stepped toward the house, and the sensation became stronger. He stepped toward the lighted window, mainly simply because it attracted his attention. he did not try to look inside just yet; looking at a light would ruin his dark vision, leaving him effectively blind except for the supernatural sensing ability, which had not so far proven entirely reliable for physical-world navigation. So, he stood about a meter and a half from the window, taking in the not-scent of magick and waiting to see what might transpire.
If whoever it is screams or there is a commotion, I shall take steps, otherwise, I shall simply wait, he thought to himself as he backed into the ivy-choked shadow of the side of the house.
