Haunted Wood whistlin' past the graveyard

Nothing she said was making any sense. He heard bits and pieces, all slurred and useless, and it only served to infuriate him. Titmouse couldn't help that the ember had been struck, and he was selfish enough that her attempts to appease him would only fail; that ember became something greater, enough so that he pulled away from her and left her to feel broken, cold, and alone.

He was on his feet and pacing beside her, and unable to contain himself. If you're just gonna ramble shit, then fine, go to sleep! I don't care anymore. You -- he turned and glared at her there in the snow, unable to reel in his frustration at the situation or the events leading up to it. Everything just made him so angry and all she could do was ignore him and sleep? You should go back home to your precious forest. If you're not here for me -- I don't want you! The caldera doesn't want you! Just fuck off.

With that said he seemed to spiral completely out of control, and took a few bold leaps away from her through the snow, fueled by his emotions.