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

soon she rouses, spitting an epithet up at him, and the boy blinks, unsure of how to respond. "the cliff fell out from under you. i tried to grab you, but i was too slow," the Mayfair child explains, looking down at her. it feels odd, because he is looking at the woman and their eyes are meeting in a weird, upside-down way, but then again, the whole thing is surreal. he has been sure she was going to die, falling out into open space like that, but here she is, and if anything in her body is untouched, it is her voice.

the woman begins to pant short breaths, her side heaving, pelt juddering with the violence of her movements, and Casmir is besieged by a panic himself. he is afraid to touch her, terrified that whatever affliction crept into her body and is now making her shake could rub off on him. some small, cool, logical part of the boy knows that isn't possible, but his consciousness shouts for him to get away! "d-do ... should i call someone?" Casmir asks hesitantly, because he is young and foolish and lacks the know-how that would have led him to do this already. he needs to be guided, and as wounded and riddled with panting as she is, the woman is older, and therefore an automatic mentor.