Now that he's not completely panicked, it's a little easier to think and trace back what he saw and reconcile that with what he thought he saw. Did he see anything, really? Christ, he doesn't know. All he does know is he heard something faint and deep-voiced, like a weird kind of song, and the trees all had wailing faces on them and he was twisting around, looking for a way out, a way in, a way around, a way that would take him anywhere but in the middle of a clump of more fucking trees, trying to follow that Ariadne's thread and losing everything in the process.

He ignores both the proffered hand and the question, rising wearily to his feet.

"Don't bother," he hears himself say, faintly. "Had worse."

He doesn't know how to address this shit, hell. He can't tell her about what he thought he saw, can he?

"I didn't get a good look at it." Well, that part's true.