Bramblepoint Swift and Voltaire

There's a bang, and then there's a whirlwind of noises. Clatter, racket, shake and roll. Deimos is forced back, lobes sweeping forward as a woodsprite materializes from the din, robed in thorns and bramble.

He's startled, but not so much that he's hostile. It takes a few seconds for him to collect his bearings as he looks about him, catching onto the fact it's not a woodland sprite but a wolf that's suddenly entangled beneath his legs. He steps back, freeing a dewclaw from the snares Ali had brought with her. She's smiling, at least, but Deimos still feels on edge. "You okay, chief?" His tone is not all-together judgmental, it's more playful than anything, but he can't help but feel concerned for the stranger given all she had just went through. There's a punch line or two here that comes to mind, like 'did it hurt when you fell from the sky', but Deimos doesn't dare utter it even if it hangs off of his tongue and in his smirk.