Well, shit. That was a slight miscalculation, wasn't it? But then... how does one account for the effects of supernatural ice..?

Chris is worried about that nosebleed, and grateful when the shock fades enough for Ellen to come back to herself and move. They keep hold of her, settling for an easier pace -- more of a jog than a real run -- that at least keeps the distance growing. The Tristitia needs a physical form to harm people, and the pair have pretty well disposed of that for now, but it would be foolishness to linger.

Silence dominates the last leg of their trek. Chris picked up on her difficulty in hearing them and figures she needs some time to recover. (It's not like Chris had time to don ear protection either in this case.) But even if both could hear perfectly, if that single shot wasn't still faintly ringing in their bones, Chris thinks that both might remain quiet.

There's a gleam of moonlight on water up ahead soon enough -- the river that cuts a border between the dark dangers of the forest and the relative safety of the town. Chris gives her arm another tug and points it out.

"Almost there."