Despite his failure to learn great nature magics, Kozuto had one he could always rely on: the summoning of small natural environments, be it trees, tiny dunes, or grasses, in a small, but quick fashion. Every half mile or so, he would cast up some form of environment to avoid being seen. There was a Nomad in that group, Kozuto was sure of that. The harpy earlier had ascertained that. In almost a giddy way, he chased the group. While he was no thief or light-footed character, his previous family life had taught him the value of staying quick and silent on his toes. However, as soon as he noticed there were elves traveling in the group, it was no longer a matter of staying silent: he had to save the Nomad. He ran up ahead, staff in hand, followed by a hunting dog and a sand surfer (a sort of large parasitic-looking creature that burrowed under the earth), planning to take the elves by surprise.
A quarter mile before he would attack, one of the elves looked back, the same one that looked so diligently so frequently, straight at Kozuto. Eye to eye with his most hated breed, he halted. The wind snapped at his fabric robe. The dog had come to a standstill, sitting on its tail, not oblivious, but maintaining serious composure. The surfer advanced to Kozuto last, slowly circling around the Nomad and the beast. Dust gathered in his hair, making a dirty, blonde color. A whistling noise sailed by in the breeze. Softly blew the wind at that moment.