In her time tracking this being, Kareet had pieced together rumors and story into a picture of who they might have been. Something like an Iriad, yet also the antithesis of one. To any people, fire was, of course, dangerous, yet there was a dichotomy to it. Fire was also an invaluable tool to most civilizations. It allowed them to cook their food, provide heat in places where warmth was a commodity, and to forge metals to their needs. However, the Iriad had, traditionally, little use for most of a fire’s utility. To them, there was nothing left of it but a threat to what they held most dear. Curiously, this was not the first they had heard of this “burning Iriad”. Stories of Iriad imbued with flame went back centuries, even all the way back to the [i]start[/i] of the Kolodon Empire in some cases. Though, Kareet was skeptical of those claims. In any case, aside from some cautionary fables from the Myriad, these stories did not necessarily paint this being, or beings, as a danger. Especially not the more recent rumors. 

In the dark of the night, the light of this being’s flame had been like a beacon to the eyes of a Tekeri like Kareet. She did not hide on approach, at least not after she set her gaze clearly upon the being. This was, undoubtedly, her quarry. She approached openly, stepping into the area illuminated by the flame. Her eyes were visible first, as with how the light reflected from within them, all four were given a piercing red glow. Once in the light, though, it was easier to see the Tekeri’s features. She was towering in height compared to the average Iriad. Most likely, the being would not be able to tell on sight whether she was male or female, as Tekeri had no readily apparent features to distinguish one from the other that an outsider’s eyes would be able to notice. At least, not without many years living among them. 

The way Kareet carried herself was, in some ways, an interesting contradiction. She was clearly in good physical shape, like a soldier or explorer more than a farmer or laborer. Yet, apart from some of the feathers just above her scaled feet, the rest of her plumage seemed far too clean for that. One would have to spend a not inconsiderable amount of time washing and preening to keep their feathers clear of dirt and dust picked up on a long road. All she wore was a rugged leather traveler’s backpack, with no jewelry or other decorations that might have been popular in the cities, yet her beak was immaculate, shining in the fire light as if polished. Such a practice tended to be restricted to at least the somewhat wealthy, due to the cost of the oils they used. 

“There is no risk of violence here, unless you are the one to create it.” Kareet answered, speaking in S’toric. “Would you grant a traveler’s request to rest in your camp?”