*Stowing his wand, Barty is all reddening squares and obliging silence and little dots of discomfort. Underneath him, his feet have finally blossomed into understanding - the sudden, full-fledged knowledge that they're barefoot and now rather bruised from the rocks. They're lonelier too - eight legs reduced to four as his hyena falls behind, paces becoming metres becoming hills. Strangely elongated bounding has stretched it out like spaghetti, causing it to darken and grow unfocused until all that's left is scrubby grass and an unlit moor.*