Reaching Domhnall’s immediate position hadn’t taken much time, Claw surmising that the gap between his starting point and his intended destination having taken no more than ten minutes to close. 

Quite a few members of the assemblage that was slowly making its way towards Zerul City had noted his presence, however. While most kept to themselves and moved on (perhaps sneaking a glance or two at the passing del’korm at most), others had momentarily interrupted their unhurried journey towards the city to acknowledge his presence with audible astonishment or pointed fingers as he bounded towards the great metropolis with furious tempo. Some of their lot, mostly farmers but a few soldiers as well, freed an extensive assortment of melee weapons of all shapes and sizes from different places on their persons in preparation for an imminent attack, but were reluctantly returned to their holding places when Claw was far enough away from their families and assigned charges. 

The severity of his exhaustion was readily made apparent to him when Claw returned to his usual two-legged posture mid-stride as he melded seamlessly into the crowd near the front of the city gates. His breathes came in labored pants and the padded undersides of his enormous claws rapidly developed a thick film of sweat. 

Still, he trudged onward through the thick crowd, his overbearing presence and foreign appearance naturally prompting the vast majority of the refugees to break their ranks for his passage. A few more working men just ahead of him reflexively brandished crude weapons and lobbed threats at the oncoming del’korm, but Claw calmly yet threateningly reassured them, in a series of broken sentences and mispronounced words, that he was not interested at all in devouring them (yet), but instead had intentions of meeting a few companions of his.

When he finally saw Domhnall, an unconscious Iridiel, and her “wolf” sitting nearby, Claw started almost immediately towards them. But he abruptly paused mid-step when he registered the presence of a young man who was conversing with Jaelnec and Domhnall. His appearance was unassuming and uninteresting for the most part barring an over-sized two-handed "sword" that was fixed to his back. 

Claw guessed that he must have been friendly enough. Otherwise the others wouldn’t have bothered exchanging words with him. Subduing his mild concern (of which was founded more on the strategic assessment of a potential enemy's capabilities and intentions rather than just on raw fear itself), Claw approached, still drawing the attention of the people around him as he calmly made his way forward.