Thank you, [ Kariya answers, reflexively, the words a distracted mumble. He studies Eden as she steps closer; he recalls seeing her—one of the Foundlings, he thinks—but he hadn't appreciated how young she had looked at the time.

It makes something curl in his stomach, bitter and sharp. No one should be forced to come here, of course—but especially not teenagers, and especially not ones that haven't been prepared for it. ]

You don't have to worry about my clothes. I don't mind if they get torn. [ The slide of the dagger rouses him from his gloomy thoughts, so he tells her that. As she pares away the vines, Kariya remains obligingly still. ] I didn't expect them to be so strong. Or so fast.