His muscles tightened, weight shifting in preparation for a sudden lunge that never came.
A breath passed.
Then another.
Again, the sense returned, sharp and insistent, crawling along the back of his neck, urging him to move, to twist, to throw himself aside.
He did not.
Nothing happened.
Blossom remained still, ears rotating slowly, body loose yet ready, far less restless than he was. Her attention was moving in broad, patient sweeps rather than sharp spikes.
Once more, the feeling surged, stronger this time.
Then it disappeared.
'Is she messing with me? Or am I just messing with my own nerves…?'
The world inverted.
There was no pain, no impact he could register, only the sudden, impossible sensation of weightlessness as his vision spun, the cavern flipping until he was staring at Blossom from an angle that made no sense at all.
His head was cut off.
Quinlan saw Blossom's body jerk, saw the blur of movement pass through her space, saw her head separate just as cleanly.
