Jade Fern Grove sturdied up boulders and loosened the river

he was already halfway to gone the moment he spoke his last words; like an arrow drawn back on a string his muscles ached with the need to leave, to be invisible again; he thought of teeth coming down on his chest, and it was all very ridiculous, he knew distantly, but that did not make the reaction any less intense.

like an arrow drawn back on a string, release was at the whim of someone other than himself.

he did not move. he stood there, waiting, and –

don’t raise your voice to me, he remembered, beneath the ungentle curve of jaws –

– and she was still talking.

she had not moved, either; she watched him, patiently, and the watching was not comfortable, exactly, but there was no attack forthcoming and not so much as a raised voice in response. and frozen there, he could do nothing but listen, and in a way that felt like watching a cliff-face crumble into the waiting sea below, the stiff-straightness of his limbs drained away.

it was still several moments before he could gather himself enough to speak.

“you have…” caligula started. his lips twitched as though he was not quite sure what to do with them, an uncomfortable shift of muzzle. “i apologize,” he said again. “what…farther south? what is there?”