The attempt to detect alignment is not without merit, for the presence bears an inkling of goodness in it, faint, but there, however more neutral than otherwise, and when its quarry heeds its urgings, the source comes upon her, the 'heavy steps' coming louder, and heavier, and more frequent, until the very leaves in the trees rustle at its coming. The approaching thing does not however arrive by land, and the rushes of air as the beast's wings slow its descent before landing, give away at the last moment, from which way it comes. Up in the shadowy boughs of an oak, a thing like a gargoyle lurks, with great three digit hands and feet, made for grasping and claws fit for cleaving stone, a long tail not unlike a dragon's in shape, and that face, a blunted wedge, with no discernible mouth, and slender, long, and acute ears. All matte black hide and eyes without pupils yellow and aglow.
There it perches, and from there it glares, wary, unwilling to trust... yet. Focused and intent on the new creature before it, that telepathic pressure begins attempting to probe and dig within her mind, searching for something, though in so doing, leaves vulnerable a sense of its own emotions, fear, confusion, disorientation. It does not seem to belong here.
Josah blinked at the antics of Elwyn, jaw dropping open at the bizarre man's new mount, and could only watch helplessly, shaking his head, and holding his forehead, wondering how this man has not been lynched yet, calling random monsters out of scrolls into the midst of frightened villagers. He looks back to Veraka with that same concern, then nods, "Would that I could run fast as you Sir Knight, I never seen them come runnin' back from chasing the creature off in such a hurry, and I fear this Elwyn will make matters worse if he keeps throwin' monsters around."