What would be most ideal is that the next portal that opens up is one that zips us all back to our own homes.

[Imagine if life could be that wonderful.

She flexes a few of the freshly wrapped fingers. They're still working on the rest.]

Well. I won't be playing the harp any time soon. [They very much want to curl into her palm and simply stay there, inert.] It's better than my feet, though. That was the worst, running straight on top of the thorns. I got off very easy this time.