The change of lighting in Edgar's bubble image betrayed the passage of time, prodding Calico's anxiety with every passing second since the cruel men had left. They had assaulted Lasair after Edgar, though the dream demon couldn't see exactly what was being done. At least it was over. If the daylight that shone through the windows would just stop, if time would just freeze, then her son and Lasair would be safe. But, with each incremental shift of the shadows, she knew it was more and more likely that the fae/Edgar-nappers would return.

Hurry hurry hurry!

Edgar tried. He had been dragging his deflated flap of a hand over the gummy aftermath as fast as he could all through sunrise. It was just a little hard to do, what with the uselessness of the limb and the impressive blast radius of its innards. The task was almost done, though, with only a few last droplets to mop back up. The misshapen lumps that clung about his hand would reform later. Hopefully.

It's okay, Lasair. We're coming for you! Calico shouted as soon as he was done, and she bid him forward with a few emphatic gestures.

"Coming for you," the puppet sputtered. If not for the shafts of bright sunlight, it might have seemed like a scene from 'Monster of the Storeroom'.

And come Edgar did, slowly. With all his mother's love and his own scrap of desire to be a good son, he lunged forward. The chains hummed with tension, jerking him to a stop at a dangerously forward angle. Then, a sudden cacophony of metal-on-wood pops filled the wide room as the chains began to feed from the crate. Edgar flopped forward and set himself to crawling, moving as forcefully as possible to keep the unspooling chains from losing momentum.

His good fortune was not infinite, though. Just a few feet from Lasair, his limbs were yanked out from under him as the chains knotted solidly in the crate.

"Yay, close enough," Edgar mimicked into the dirty floor.