Blackfeather Woods going off my head, down to somewhere

astara dug deep into her inner reserves, extracting one last mighty bout of energy -- enough that when she bade to sit down, she did so with an extraordinarily well-aimed tug.

unfortunately, that extraordinarily well-aimed tug coincidentally happened to be extraordinarily well-timed -- averna had plumb released her hold on the root, and astara was sent tumbling buttocks over tea-kettle like a fat gumdrop pushed down a hill.

she had no defense for this sudden upheaval and somersaulted, the root still clutched possessively in her teeth. she landed with a heavy thud in the damp earth and looked up at her sister huffily, debris littering the sides of her body that had made unfortunate contact with the ground. the butterfly was only just noticed -- astara watched it (and her sibling) as it flitted in an unorthodox and highly unpredictable way, her attention transfixed on its brightly fluttering wings.