"You're welcome to take your cup with you if you'd like; it know its way back to the kitchen."
Richard smiled. "Oh, I'll be leading the way. I would be a poor host to have you meet without a proper introduction."
Cup in hand he led the way around the side of the house, past the barn, and past the paddock where his horses stirred lazily, watching the two nighties on their journey. They came to an open wooden gate, set off with two tall posts. He knocked the times on the right-hand post and spoke softly, "One quarter lights, please." A bluish-white witchlight appeared at the top of each gatepost, casting a soft glow over the open field and the trees behind it.
"Now, Ms. Romanoff, tell me what you see heading toward us from the trees." Heading toward the two of them were five thestrals, a stallion in the lead, three mares and a foal trailing about fifteen feet behind. Richard knew that only someone who had seen death and fully understood it could see a thestrals; it was part of their peculiar form of magic. Even though the woman next to him went armed, that didn't mean she was anything more than a glorified paper-pusher. He had worked with that sort during the war, and didn't plan to ever do it again if he could help it. It was a simple enough test to see if Natasha Romanoff had really 'seen the elephant', as the expression went.