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yeah, that's the thing, they can metabolize any water, even a freakin' garden sprinkler, so to dry it out you're going to have to get it trapped somewhere arid. Fire might work, but it'd take a lot of it.

[he sighed] and not getting caught's tricky because of the damn feelers.

....Feelers.

[Oh god.]

Seriously?! How could fire not work, Bobby? Last time I checked, it doesn't get more arid than in the middle of a barbecue.

[that gives him pause] well... how big is it?

It's about... the size of a cow. [The profanities go unspoken.]

And you really have space for a fire that big? [What? It's a valid question!]

Well, we're near the swamp. It's not exactly the most flammable place.

And it's pretty wet. Dammit. Next best option is find something to dry it up. Silica granules would be best, like they use for cleaning up puke at stadiums and schools, but enough cat litter ought to work just as well.

Wait, are we getting it dry and setting it on fire, or are we supposed to be careful not to set the rest of the woods on fire? It seems kind of... mutually exclusive.

Swamp's wet enough you won't get a good enough blaze going to burn it, you're going to have to dry it out, like salt on a garden slug.

If we're lucky enough, we might catch it while it's out hunting in town.

And if you can't get any of the absorbent stuff, industrial grade rock salt, like they use for the snowplow.

So, you're saying we'll need to pen it in somewhere? [Awesome.] Also, aren't bunyips supposed to just stay in their swamps? [Wikipedia has never failed her before. Except all the times when it has.]

Unless there's something driving it out. Maybe it just got here and hasn't found a good swamp yet, maybe it's still shopping around. Like I said, don't usually see them outside of Australia.

Yeah, well. Didn't you fight an 'okami' a while back? [The word is awkward on her tongue because honestly, who the hell fights okamis in America?] But all that sounds like to me is that there's something bigger here driving it out.

Yeah, I know, and the lamia, and there've been reports of a freakin' Puck around too, don't usually get those out of the Isles.

Things are migrating for some damn reason.

And the weres and Jinn acting strangely, not to mention the vampire activity, and everything else going crazy.

Guess nobody's quite sure what to do with the damn apocalypse being derailed.

Or something about the cage opening has thrown the world out of balance.

Maybe. You doing okay out there?

I'm fine. [Lying has become impossibly easy.] I met up with Dad.

[She says it casually; oh, by the by, my father's back from the grave and we had lunch, nbd.]

[There's silence for a long moment, not even breathing]

With who?

...

Yeah. Uh. [She's got that valiant stranglehold on the emotion in her voice, but Bobby knows her better than almost anybody, and has seen more clearly than anyone what she's been through.] He's back from... from Heaven.

Ah.

[that was all he had to say on the matter, really]

Yeah. [She doesn't have anything else to say: Bobby doesn't need to know about Gabriel, or their attempted angel-roasting party, or any of it. He has enough on his plate as is.

Speaking of which, there's this thing she's been doing where she tries to stop taking him for granted constantly.] How're you, Bobby?

Doing fine. [Though he sounds tired, just a little] Been busy, you know how it goes.