Loki dismounts (though he could coax the horse further); he leaves her loosely tied, and closes his eyes.

It is more difficult than usual to summon another form -- something, again, to do with the weakness he's felt since he arrived. Hawk, he thinks, eagle, falcon, a bird of prey, and he twists his fingers, wrapping his form in magic-feathers.

He flutters into the air as a swift. Not what he'd meant, but it would do.

He hops onto the road, flaps his wings to sweep up to a horse, a shoulder. To listen to what is being planned, if anything.

After this: a flurry of his wings, and he takes to the sky.