Clothes began to appear in their proper place, with the urging of Koe's limbs. A shirt first, trousers next. Stuffed into the tops of his boots, those, boots weathered and worn with age. He did not believe that he would ever see something like this again. Dragons fighting dragons over nothing. Over a trifle. In what age, in what mad era, did such things happen? He wanted to demand more of Horon than he had - but at least the old knight had agreed to say something. Hadn't he? There was no time to stay and debate the issue. If there were other dragons, they needed to be gone before said dragons arrived. Otherwise it would become highly unpleasant for all of them.
A thing Koe desperately wanted to avoid.
"Not now," he told her softly. "Not now."
How far to the nearest range? How far to the place where Horon had been leading them? And would they make it there alive? Koe was stomping his feet as loudly as he could, as hard as he could, trying to settle his feet before they stated out again. The horses would do them no good on the mountain. Which was probably the preference of whomever inhabited the mountain. The witch. Horon was strapping things down on his horse as quickly as he could.
Perhaps not quickly enough.
"We have a great deal of ground to cover. Let's get to it."