the earth has music for those who listen
Mateo is not sure that they should, whatever the end of Ever's sentence might have been. And he'll never know now, because further rustling in the trees causes him to scramble back a bit, even as the Hart boy lobs his ice pack and defiantly yells into the undergrowth. "What animal says SqUaK?" he wants to know, his voice sounding a lot higher than he remembers it being.
With the arm that isn't likely fractured, he reaches out to tug at Ever's sleeve, as if he might be able to encourage his flight response that way. "Come on," he urges. "If we run, we might be able to get away from it. Otherwise we will have to fight, and I do not like our chances." In the years to come this will doubtlessly change, but for now at least, there is still enough caution in Mateo's little mind to know when he's beat.
With the arm that isn't likely fractured, he reaches out to tug at Ever's sleeve, as if he might be able to encourage his flight response that way. "Come on," he urges. "If we run, we might be able to get away from it. Otherwise we will have to fight, and I do not like our chances." In the years to come this will doubtlessly change, but for now at least, there is still enough caution in Mateo's little mind to know when he's beat.
