Oh dear, now he's about to go over the edge. With a faint, resigned groan, Greta darts forward to grab ahold of his windmilling arm and give him a good tug back onto more solid ground. Not that any ground feels particularly solid with these great footfalls shuddering through the earth and knocking loose foliage from the surrounding trees.

She hasn't forgotten his initial reaction to being seized by the arm, and as soon as he's safely away from the edge, she releases him again. "Careful," she cautions, a bit belatedly, but she had thought it rather went without saying.