Sucasa sucks in her breath hard, and Wrema draws her own longer, quieter breath, even as they hurry toward Hera and the relative safety of the tree. Neither of them knows what's out there, but Sucasa, at least, can feel its pulse, its breath --

And its hunger.

Is it going to eat them? She doesn't know.

Her free hand creeps out to touch Hera's hip, holding on to a fold of the cloth. She's not sure where she put her water bottle, but she's definitely not worried about that, now.

Wrema is barely breathing, but is also tilting her head to peer around the tree, wanting to see whatever it is that is making Hera react like that.

"Oh," she says, very quietly.

It's beautiful.