Sabine, nearby, watches these feats of magic happen a little like one might marvel at a tiger with a chain around its neck; curtailed danger that is, in its own right, fascinating to behold. She stands upright and poised, all light weight leathers, utilitarian braiding, knives both visible and not. She hasn't seen battle just yet, but she has every intention of following this group in search of those taken.

There had been notes. One of a Fade traveller, noble bearing, scars on his chest:

Additional hands required.

At the mage's announcement, Sabine starts to move, only a little dubious of crossing a bridge of ice and plantlife that had only just recently been twisting, as lively as snakes, but hell. You do only live once.