*When El waves the fan, a powerful gust of wind far stronger than the fan could possibly produce flurries around her, cooling the air significantly, and blowing her hair about before light breezy remnants gently lift her hair back into place just as it was.*
"I try," Orin nods agreeably, "Ah, yes, the hunt--I told Ammon that he should have us fly out and have one, but no. He's such a girl sometimes--he just wanted to have a stag party and talk to all his friends. A hunt would have been so much more fun--doesn't he know that stags are the hunted--being a hunter on your last night is much better symbolism for the coming marriage than being the hunted, don't you agree? Not to worry--I've convinced father, and so we will be holding a hunt during the festivities following the wedding, although admittedly, women aren't allowed. You think you could keep up on the hunt?" he asks, interested.