Heron Lake Plateau it's easier than just waiting around to die

He didn't  have time to see the release of the sapling, nor did he anticipate the potential damage of his own careening body. It all happened so fast — his loss of control, Raleska's engaging of the sapling, and then the tumult of Owen's voice; everything all at once. It was chaos, just how Tywyll liked it, but it was all directed at him. Owen tried to warn him but it was already too late - his voice reached Tywyll's ears and began to process just as Tywyll's projectile of a body collided with the kinetic force of the sapling.

It narrowly missed his face, and his legs were tucked just so.

What it hit -- well, he didn't have a word for it, but he wouldn't be peeing for a while. The sensation of the whip-like sapling striking his groin was instantaneous and horrible, and it dropped him like a sack of bricks. Tywyll didn't even have a chance to yelp in pain, because he was a bundle of flailing limbs, mud, and the radiating, gut-wrenching pain of a good punt. When he managed to gasp, he was sucking in a mouthful of mud while tears stung the corners of his eyes, and he rolled uselessly on his back (as if that would help).