Neverwinter Forest A brilliant strategy.

The forest was so big, so intimidating, but also so beautiful that Stone was awed by it. He'd been walking in circles through the heart of the territory for a good four or five hours, baffled by the colors brought to life by slanting light, or by the shapes of old trees leaning against their neighbours, or the weird sounds of different birds - or branches - screeching on occasion. His eyes trailed through the ferns more and more frequently because, as he soon understood, there was a lot of stuff growing beneath his paws which wanted to kill him. 

For instance: he'd tripped on several roots, discovered at least one sinkhole, run nose-first in to a tree, and the most recent discovery... Crossed paths with a bushel of some sort of vine that was wrapped around a sapling, mingling between the ferns, and — most importantly — made his legs immediately itchy. Which then felt like burning. And while Stone was pretty good at ignoring the negatives, it was harder and harder as the sensation spread across his skin.

He was hitching his steps; imagine a dog wearing booties, and that's what he's doing. The ferns rustle beneath his steps and after each one, he pauses to look at his wrists, his toes, turning to reference his heel, wondering if the ferns are causing this creeping burn and if he should find somewhere else to tread; but it isn't the ferns. Its the ivy, obviously. But he keeps going, through the ferns and around the patch that'd ignited his skin, until he finds a gap among the trees where the grass feels dew-damp and cold, upon which he sploooots, rubbing his underside greedily against the vivid carpet growing there.

Its a relief — but not a lasting one.