Her words would have frozen me to the spot if it hadn't been for the
angry wolf turning to attack again. I thought discretion would be
better than valour, and clicked my heels together whispering “There's
no place like home...” as I did. That was my door back into the
Weave, fairytale slippers they're called. No idea how they work, but
they got me back to my little corner of the shifting swirling
maelstrom of madness that was still my home. It's not much, my
place: a simulation of a small patch of dense forest, but it's a
place to escape the bedlam and it was the best my fledgling
imagination could maintain at the time.
“I love what you've done with the place.” Somehow, Finch had
followed me.
