the monsters turned out to be just trees

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

Scrambling to keep hold, Remi's claws dug into the various pelts as his small body was nearly thrown entirely off of the summoner's shoulders. Tittering something unhappy, the raccoon hung like some sort of animorphic hairball on the back of Loren's coat, his fur on end and adrenaline pumping through his veins. "You asked me a question." The alchemist replied, sounding flustered. Leaping off of Loren's shoulders onto the bough of a nearby tree, the small creature eyed the summoner below with a wary and unhappy glance. Dexterously climbing down, the alchemist shifted back into his body with graceful ease, brushing a bit of snow from his shoulder and decidedly not meeting Loren's gaze.

"Ah yes, because you are so easy to talk to these days." Remi quipped back, his tone equally rattled and bothered.