[ the thoughts that come through are too fast for jayce to process; not impossible or illegible, but too fast. when one calculation is made, another is already complete and then another. his ears strain, flop and twitch under the canopies. jayce pushes through and breaches branches and leaves, antlers and skull and all in an attempt to surpass the flora's rattling and hone in on any sound ahead. he truly can't see, and the thought that comes to him is a touch indiscernable for him to make out who immediately.
but if it thinks, it's not a threat. probably. far more likely a convoy drifter.
no subject
but if it thinks, it's not a threat. probably. far more likely a convoy drifter.
i won't do anything, he promises. ]