There was plenty of chatter in the streets -- merchants shouting their sales pitches, parents berating their unruly children, young couples exchanging their sweet nothings -- but nothing about any phoenix hunters. In fact, nobody seemed to talk about the phoenixes in general, as if it were some kind of taboo. Taldo even went so far as to ask a merchant where he could find a phoenix-feather quill, but the man just looked at him like he was crazy. Taldo was now beginning to realize how difficult this job would be. The hunter could be literally anyone, and he didn't expect her to just walk about the streets flaunting her identity. This would be a game of patience indeed. 

Just then, a woman bumped into him, seeming to be quite off-balance. "Oh, it's fine," he began in his usual pleasant demeanor, but as he got a look at the woman something seemed off with her. "You... don't look very well," he said with legitimate concern. "Perhaps you should sit down for a minute. Here." He guided her away from the flood of people and to a quiet patch of land just off the main street. "Is everything alright?" He asked as he eased her to the ground. "Perhaps I could get you some water." Her face seemed to be a bit more red than the others, though he had to admit that skin pigment in humans could vary as wildly as phoenix feathers. Did she have a fever? He couldn't tell; they were all rather cool from his perspective. 

And now that he thought about it, why was he going out of his way to help a random mortal? He had a job to do. While he was helping this woman, the hunter could slip right under his nose. Well, it couldn't be helped now. He had already offered to help her. It would be inexcusable not to see it through.