[Brash? He scoffs at the assumption.]

I’m not talking about horses. I’m talking about the subway.

[No explanation follows, thank you very much. Stephen straightens, ignoring the fact that he may now be bow-legged forever, and gestures with a hand. The reins of his horse wrap themselves against the nearest overhead branch, secure with a flick of a spell.]

It doesn’t matter. We should leave the horses here.

[The forest is surprisingly vast for not being too departed from Thorne’s castle. The winter season has thinned its canopy and sunlight dapples the ground as he walks forward, gesturing out towards a very large incline just a few yards away. It’s a stony crag, with plants poking out from its side, roots desperately clinging to the bluff.

Just above the treeline.]

That’s where we’ll find what we need.