When Numair opened the bedroom door he found himself at the top of a staircase. He could hear a hissing noise and a droning voice that was hard to make out coming from somewhere below.

Cautiously he descended the staircase, looking at the framed photos on the wall and then at the shoes lined up at the bottom of the stairs as he did. There was nothing keeping him from simply walking out the front door at the bottom of the steps, either--the deadbolt was even unlocked. He looked at this, and around into the next room, when a second voice caught his attention, accompanied by a low rumble. He picked his way down the short hall towards it, but stopped short at the open doorway into the kitchen, instead hanging back to peer in.

The winged man was standing at the stove with his back to Numair. A cat was sitting at his feet, grooming herself. Numair glanced down then to see blades of golden-brown grass rising up at him out of the carpet--he got a vivid impression of a dark sky, then, and a low howl of wind.