Blackfeather Woods One goes to the morgue and the other to jail

He didn't want her reassurance, he didn't want to hear her voice or deal with the threat that was in front of him, around him, everywhere. But it felt like the dark of the wood had somehow gotten inside. His lungs were heavy. They were full to bursting and he couldn't take another breath, while his heart continued to pound, his head fogging. It was like the shadows were moving all around him with an eagerness, a liveliness, that was almost primal.

And through that came her voice - soothing, even if he didn't want it to be. Stating facts that he latched on to in desperation. Tiny candles of hope that flickered in the winter air, ready to be snuffed out. He held them close, felt the tiniest bit of warmth. He was still angry and afraid but Titmouse could breathe again. The mention of another captive made him pause further, hold his breath, calm, calm, calm... And the shifting shadows stopped their dance.

Freed... he mirrored. But what... what did she do? Why.. Why am I still here? He almost didnt want to know, not really.