The sounds of escape had not gone entirely unnoticed by the bear, either, a flicker of attention twisting backwards before the two strikes of Sirius's magic snap and cut across its face and chest. It roars in outrage, turning back to the wizard, rage fuelling momentum as it drops to all fours again, lumbers towards him faster than would be expected of its size.

Behind, in amongst the clusters of stacked crates, toolboxes and half-finished shuttle parts, there is silence in response to Caprica's coaxing. Stillness, no sign of where the refugee may have tucked themselves away now.

For a moment, at least.

In the spaces between roars and the crack-fizzle of magic behind them, breathing is audible: the choked, laboured breathing of fear and exertion, the desperate need to stay quiet. A hiss of a whisper, irritation and terror. Stray words discernible in two voices, "I can't--" "Just--" "Where am I meant--" "Going to hear you--"