"Do they?" he asks over his own shoulder, before finding a suitable tree once he realizes that Stiles is giving chase, grabbing onto a low branch with both hands and hoisting himself into it with a great grunt of effort. He's no Bran, no masterful climber of all things, but what kind of boy would he be if he hadn't learned how to scale trees to escape scoldings from his father's guard in his youth? Honestly.

Once perched safely high he summons more balloons and starts dropping them down through the branches to where Stiles yet is; he's dripping and covered in torn leaves and grinning like an idiot. "Go on, try to climb with that in your hands!"