"Okay," Kerrigan says, and promptly doesn't move. Her eyes narrow as she focuses, reaching out with her mind rather than her hands. As gently as she can, she wraps Raistlin in her telekinetic grip and eases him off the branch, lowering him unhurriedly to the forest floor. It is, in fact, a lot like feather fall, but Kerrigan's psionic grip doesn't resemble that of the magic Raistlin knows. Whatever power she's tapping comes from another source.

Once he's settled, she releases her hold and follows much more quickly, hopping down to the branch where he'd been standing, and then slipping off. She can't properly grip the enormous branch, but lets the friction of her gloves against the bark slow her slide and turn a worrisome drop into an easily managed one.

"There we go." Kerrigan dusts bark bits off her hands. "Where's this game trail of yours?"