[ He takes his chance, following her with his own unpracticed grasp of experiencing her view as his own. The storm rages and thunders and pushes as it did before. In an attempt to stay, he finds his own projection blinking into existence next to her. The man in white robes looks solid, but for the tell-tale wrong lighting, and he doesn't cast a shadow. He takes one surprised look around, then blinks out again.

His shade reappears inside the horse's head, but his voice only comes from the psychic network, echoing from where he is broadcasting from the horse's stomach. ]

I am glad I did not try that in person.