The dark horse arrives swiftly and silently, only to pause in the shadows cast by a burnt-out building next to the one named in the coordinates. Ears shifting and nostrils flaring, he drinks in his surroundings before transforming back into Tadhg MacEibhir. Tadhg trusts that Jim would have warned them somehow if he was in any immediate danger, but in the Spatters, taking chances on trust alone can be lethal.

After he slips into his destination, his nose is quick enough to pick up Jim Kirk's scent through the fainter scents of sweat, fear, and blood. "Jim, what--" His question comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the nine little páistí sitting with him. The staring eyes of the tiny girl on Jim's lap draw his gaze and hold it.

"Grace of God," he breathes. As he kneels down to take a closer look, he follows up with a few much harsher words in Fae. "What's happened to them?" he asks at last, reaching out to run gentle fingers across the cheek of one of the little ones.