Stalking the sheer walls of the enclosure, no obvious escape is discovered.  The only recourse seems to be a place where the span of the surrounding roof has overhanging bars - crossbeams between two peaked roofs - rather than the ridge of the roof itself.  Fern may be able to attempt a climb there, though it would require gaining traction for about a dozen feet of where there seems to be none.<br/><br/>Miaren experiences a revelation of a different sort.  She is certain that the die-smooth eggs are swelling subtly.  She cannot see it yet.  It is hard to feel with her hands.  Her womb knows, all the same, with a fluid straining feeling delicately dampening it along with the weight of the ovoids.  As if in reply, the potion-soaked regions of her body - her expanding breasts in their bindings; the runny hollow of her vagina - take up a melodious and rising thrill.