Raistlin does twitch a little as the woman's strange magic wraps around him, lifting him from the branch and lowering him gently to the ground. It is magic, he's certain, albeit of a kind he's never encountered before. Tonight is a night for new experiences. If he survives it, he's sure he'll find them enriching.

When she lands, he points silently to the opening in the underbrush. It's a very faint trail, almost invisible. He wouldn't have seen it, except that his cursed sight turns the world to winter; without leaves on the branches bending over it, it's much easier to see.