The Tangle pray for the wicked on the weekend

What came next wasn't something she expected at all, nor did she see it coming in the dark. There she was, struggling to free herself from whatever branch had caught upon her, and then there was an agitated voice and some teeth and everything happened so fast — Lavender's memory briefly flashed with images of being attacked before, and she let out a small whine as the stranger turned to face her.

But they didn't attack her. They looked at her like she was something new, something vile, as if they were afraid. Nothing like this had ever happened to little Lavender before. She didn't know how to experience the utter revulsion writ across the stranger's gaunt face. Thankful suddenly for the darkness (for it would hide the fact her eyes had become blurred by a glossy sheen), she tried to explain: W-wait! I'm not — I didn't do anything — don't be scared, she pleaded, but simultaneously pushed against the ground and tried to reverse against the branch which held her.

The motion helped her get unstuck, however, now Lavender was stuck in a different way. Behind her were tangled trees and before her was this agitated wolf. Please don't hurt me! She called out, and ducked against the soil as if making herself smaller would appease the copper-wrought titan.