the monsters turned out to be just trees

hope keeps us breathing, just to kill us in the end

With a dramatic sigh, or at least as dramatic as a raccoon's lungs and throat could project, the small creature bared tiny white teeth in the summoners face before crawling onto a shoulder. He didn't know if Loren was being difficult (probably) or just thick (also likely), but as much as the alchemist might want to push the envelopes of his victory, he'd not do so at the risk of hypothermia on the Launceleyn's part.

With a huff, the raccoon re-assumed the position of scarf around Loren's neck, his small and cold nose pressed into the man's collar to hide it from the wind. Tittering a nose he pointed vaguely forward, probably indicating that's the direction they should go. At the same time, his tail curled upwards to tickle Loren's other ear.