Deepwood Weald but i still wanted to dance

a host of crows scattered up from their perches in a frenzied rush as a more-than-audible yelp escapes the girl, followed by a thrush of rustling from within the forest bramble. she is caught in a rather embarassing position; one half of her body inserted fully into a bush and the remaining half, stuck fully free of the tangled mess. had she known the inner layers enclosed a nest of thorns, she would neglected to enter its lair. alas, her paw was extended from her body, pierced by the thorns which dug slowly into the soft between her pads every time she attempted to free herself. 

a slight whimper of pain escapes the yearling, but is followed soon after by a furious growl -- indicative of the incredibly inconvenient situation she had landed herself in. "fuck." manages to slip past her tongue. her eyes cast to the bundle of herbs that rest a mere foot away, knowing that if she ripped her paw out she could at least treat it immediately. the trouble was, removing her paw from the trap without inflicting further damage.