Daine waits until Softwing has put a bit more distance between herself and their tower, then calls for the bats. Some fly out of the trees, others were already flying over the lawn in a hunt for bugs, but they're all eager to meet Daine, and within a minute, she has a handful of hoary bats and almost a dozen pipistrelles clinging to her dress like little furry ornaments on a Christmas tree. One enterprising hoary has even landed atop her head, snuggled comfortably in her hair beneath her mask.

Daine smiles a bit sheepishly. Perhaps she should've warned him that they'd all land on her like this. "Most of them are pipistrelles," she explains quietly, mindful of their sensitive ears, "but the larger ones are called hoary bats."