the loveliest lies of all

Blood is  u n s a f e.

She did not like this.

“I suppose it does. It is. Quiet enough f-for that.”

"The trees are a quiet place, yes. There is no birdsong here and the winter snow muffles everything around it; sometimes the North Wind blows his tune through the branches, but he lacks real  o p e r a.

That is my specialty."

Now it seemed the Beast was pointedly ignoring her discomfort, a slight tilt of his head the only indication he was even paying any attention to the one before him.

I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company. A guide I have no need for— I’m not planning on returning to where I came from anytime soon.

[No, the Beast thought--he won't be returning anywhere, Like many of the travelers before him, the forest had now staked its claim, and the forest would receive what it was due. Still, when he spoke it was with a hint of wry humor, as if the stranger's words amused him.]

Perhaps a guide is not needed to return from whence you came--but destinations are finicky things, and might warrant a companion.

[There seemed to be two conversations happening simultaneously; words flowing in one direction from the Beast were picked up and tilted around until they were nothing like his intention. Annoying, to say the least, but the creature made this note with no malice--with nothing more than the same distant acceptance he treated every other part of the world around him.  .]

You misunderstand, stranger. I will take no part in your burial--I do not take life.

     I give it.

Does the acorn fear its return to the soil?