The Tangle Settle down, it'll all be clear

i would like to thank sixteen candles for ruining my writing groove

It’d been a while since the herbalist had taken leave of the cliffs. Truthfully, Aure didn’t know what had urged her to the nefarious Tangle. Perhaps it had been how tangled she’d been feeling within, as of late — and possibly to forage out of restlessness.

For one thing, getting wound up in a thicket had been the very last thing she’d longed to seek. 

What she had initially sought was just a bit of green, a bit of anything in all of this doom-and-gloom; and as such, some nameless god must have heard a nonbeliever’s prayers, for said green had caught her eye. It’d winked at her, then, coaxing her to solider through the thicket that she’d found no other entry through.

And so, as thoughtless as ever, she’d made to brave it — and that’d been quite a while ago. Since then, she’d wrangled them, she’d throttled them; oh yeah, she’d devastated them. And since neither would let the other go, the adversaries of earth and breath had drawn into themselves. As the brambles toed about her tufted, scarred brow, Aure had bid her time wondering whether Dragomir and Isilmë would suitable names for for her copii and buffing her claws.

It seemed that the more she squirmed, the more the briars caught, and the quiet whimpers of frustration would’ve reached the ears anyone managing to pick their way by. But, with her rump free of briars and tragically sat to stone, scenting someone was a dilemma.

So, in the past hour, she’d resigned herself to the fact that the kru would believe she’d tumbled into the gorge, her beloved(?) would rip into another tree in anguish of her tomfoolery, and her name would be remembered as Aure the Asinine.

Still, she gave one last, little whine, in the hopes that someone would mosey on past. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?