#((who'd've thought not being able to do isayah's single format of seven (7) spaces before each new paragraph would pain me so much

[misfortuning]

He realizes his second mistake only after the woman begins to shout and hurl the entire basket at him—it's not normal to run around naked, either. At her demand that he take what he wants, just cover himself, his semi-panicked brain siezes on the basket now lying amongst its scattered contents as just the thing. Stooping to grab it he automatically starts to pick up the mushrooms as well, his thoughts racing and chasing and crashing together. Survival instincts not entirely his own demand he get out while he can; with his luck she'll start throwing spells now that she's out of physical ammo, or whatever it is witches do in real life. Logic says that if he's made this bad of a first impression, she's probably more likely to want him out of the forest, right? And considering how she keeps missing him, she either doesn't actually want to hit him, or she has really bad aim. Either way it's in his favor.

(The slow growing ache that gnaws constantly in the space behind his ribs longs to know if she's met a woman who calls herself Noël, if she's ever encountered a being made of winter's raw and frozen heart itself.)

Before he can get too tangled in his snarl of thoughts, however, he's derailed by her next comment. A scowl reflexively settles upon his brow, deepening as he realizes that he can't honestly or even plausibly argue with her—as with nudity, bathing had ceased to be a problem the moment he abandoned living in proximity to other people. Or rather, humans. Now they seem like inane and foreign problems to him, but if it gets her to stop yelling and throwing things... Basket and bounty gathered together, he straightens, holding it at a strategic level so as to provide what modesty it can.

"I wasn't sneaking—and you're not too polite yourself," he replies bluntly, though he manages to bite back the temptation to make some rude comments of his own. No sense in making petty enemies with a witch in the middle of an unhospitable forest. His voice rasps slightly from disuse as he continues, "I don't want to be here either, you know. There's someone I need to find. She..."

He hesitates. Would she have kept her human form, now that they've been separated? Would she continue to use the name he gave her? She wouldn't give up on him, would she? No. A short, sharp shake of his head; he won't start doubting her, not when she's the only one who's accepted him for who he is. What he's become. "Her name is Noël. She's...not human. I don't think she's here, but...what's wrong with this place? Why can't I find a way out?"

@misfortuning

        When the wolf suddenly decided that the bony witch was not such a tasty prey, and disappeared into the bushes, Ivakir breathed a sigh of relief and began to descend to the ground. Probably, her secret mushroom technique was able to scare away this terrible beast. But as soon as in the bushes, where the wolf ran away, something rustled and completely different sounds began to occur, which you would not expect to hear in the forest, Ivakir quickly climbed the tree again.

      “Ahhh! Naked teen!” when a wolf didn’t appear from behind the bushes, as she had expected, but a very naked and very young man, Ivakir immediately covered her eyes with her hand. Teenagers. Much worse than wolves. They scream, they argue, they always want to seem smart and they had that weird thing which called “youthful maximalism”. Honestly, Ivakir would feel more comfortable if there was a pack of wolves. “Here! Take what you want, just for the sake of all that is holy, cover yourself!”

      The basket of mushrooms flew in the direction of the young man, but missed. What the hell was going on? Did she accidentally got into a forest where wolves and nudists lived? And, no, wait, even the damn squirrels didn’t live in this forest. Ivakir removed her hands from her face and looked at the stranger with such a look, as if she was accusing him of a crime.

      “You’re that wolf, are you, eh? You smell like a fog. I can even feel it from here.”

      The witch deftly descended to the ground. Putting her thumbs on her belt, she, however, kept aloof, as if she was afraid that the young man would immediately turned into a wolf again and attack her.

      Of course, you will not eat me, the witch thought, I will punch you in the teeth and you will eat soups until your last days.

      “What are you talking about? Not what, but who! My name is Ivakir, and I am a witch- actually, I’m just picking up mushrooms,” the witch answered confidently. At three in the morning. It’s just a hobby. “And we are in the forest, as you can see. Trees, grass - everything is like in the forest. And what are you doing here? You know, you should not be here at all. And you also shouldn’t have sneaked behing my back. It’s not polite!”