Byleth can feel the oddly new sensation of fur and feathers standing on end. He looks akin to a gargoyle or some ornate roof finial perched there, near motionless as he waits.

It's two at first, that burst from the dirty snow at their quarry. A third thumping hard against the door that just isn't quite ajar enough for it to fully fit through, though its claws grasp and splinter the wood as it scrabbles madly to escape and join its comrades.

Byleth also explodes into motion, leaping from the roof with claws and teeth bared.