Her touch is like melting ice cream and it sticks in his sweater and his fur, chilling him to the bone in more ways than one.
"I-It'll be okay, Mrs. Drake! We'll find someone at the castle who can help you! There's got to be a way. There has to be a way! Here... I'll lead you out..."
He takes her wing (hand? twig? neither? all?) and slowly guides her through the fog. It melts all over his hand, and it takes everything in his power not to pull back in revulsion. Nor does he try not to dwell on the possibility that he could get glued to her--them?--too.
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Date: 2016-03-28 08:34 pm (UTC)"I-It'll be okay, Mrs. Drake! We'll find someone at the castle who can help you! There's got to be a way. There has to be a way! Here... I'll lead you out..."
He takes her wing (hand? twig? neither? all?) and slowly guides her through the fog. It melts all over his hand, and it takes everything in his power not to pull back in revulsion. Nor does he try not to dwell on the possibility that he could get glued to her--them?--too.