This would normally be where my survival instincts kick in, right about the point where it starts being more about ‘how many bones are getting broken’ and less about ‘can I talk my way out of this?’

Only they don’t, and I find myself going in the exact opposite direction that my instincts are demanding (in increasingly frantic urges). Whatever is it that just waltzed out of the rift is big and ugly and about twice my size, which doesn’t seem to phase my body as it merrily flings me into melee range. Did I mention the thing looks carnivorous?

-helphelphelphelphelphelphelp-

Ask anyone, they’ll tell you I’m the last person to look to for when you need some brazen heroics, so not only did my charge confused me, it flustered the hell out of my traveling companions. Rat and Sugar just stared, and Tess– well she was just bawling her eyes out (as kids are wont to do when faced with monsters) and was screaming something I couldn’t quite make out…

-helphelphelphelphelphelphelp-

The first few seconds of a fight is probably not the best place to finally figure out that that cute kid you’ve been helping has just a ‘smidge’ of telepathic potential, and no qualms at all about using you as a meat shield.

-HELPHELPHELPHELP-

This was not going to end well.