The farmer was all but forgotten, Marion’s arms wrapped tightly around Eris’ unconscious form. They shook him, not by intention, but rather because they themself were shaking.

“Jacket–” The elf looked up to the fey, still walking on her hindlegs. “Do something. Please? Anything–”

“Hush,” the fey spoke aloud, her voice a soothingly melancholic chime. It was gentler than her anger, but commanding. She hardly ever spoke aloud. The elf sniffled still, staring ...