Blackbeak Bluff My mama don't like you, and she likes everyone*

Cas actually has nothing to say -- his brain functions upon seeing the pale creature were limited to 'there's that pretty girl i saw one day -- ' but he travels toward her nevertheless, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other style, feeling his pawpads touch rounded edges and jagged crags by turn. the going is slow but he is happy to do it, if not to share a brief camaraderie with the woman about how high up they are and how amazingly sweet that is.

because, he assumes, as he moves toward her with all the speed of two mating snails stuck in a sea of blackstrap, his sentiments were shared by the strange-but-familiar woman. if they weren't, why was she up here? was it to look at the waves? that was easily done by going to the beach. the ocean was literally right there. was it to hunt? there was nothing to hunt up here, unless you liked to eat rocks and weird barnacles.

a darker possibility suddenly occurred to him; his throat constricts with horror, and Cas stumbles as he tries to take a larger step toward the pale woman. "don't --!" he chokes out, before his stomach lurches into his throat and he flattens himself against the cliff face briefly, heart pounding at his very narrow escape from a plunge to his death. the pale woman is forgotten for now; the Mayfair child feels the ground beneath his body, the coolness of it, and concentrates on regulating his breath.