The rest of the swarmers closed in again, but the tree-sprite took hold of the branch with both hands and lifted itself off the ground and out of their reach. More tree limbs were bending inwards, the perfect dome of the willow folding in on itself in a cacophony of tearing leaves and splintering twigs. Willow fronds spread out all around Alice, cutting her off in three directions and forcing her back towards the tree trunk. The ground under her feet writhed, roots shifting and groping as they tried to trip her.

Alice ducked the flailing limbs and dodged backwards, rapidly running out of room. The groping branches were clumsy and easy to avoid, but the willow fronds were much more agile. A look over her shoulder told her that she had only a couple of feet left before she came up against that deadly trunk, and a curtain of leaves surrounded her almost completely. It didn’t reach quite to the ground, though—

There wasn’t time to think about it. She ran forward, feinting left, then right, then throwing herself to the ground in a roll that she hoped would take her past the curtain and out into the open. She felt a moment of exultation as she felt the leaves brush by her, straining but unable to reach. A bare instant later, her headlong tumble ended hard against a clump of roots that had risen in her path, sending a jolt of pain through her shoulder. She scrabbled to get over it, but the whole patch of dirt she lay on was rising, and before she could get past, she felt the willow fronds winding around her.

Desperately, Alice called on the Swarm. First a dozen and then more of the little creatures popped into being, stabbing and slashing at the willow switches with their beaks, trying to hack their way to the knots that were already winding around Alice’s limbs. The sharpened edges of their beaks could cut the fronds, but for every one they severed, two more snaked into place. After a moment of confusion, the willow was fighting back, reaching out for the swarmers and wrapping around them or grabbing their legs. The swarmers tried to stay clear, surprisingly agile, but first one and then another were caught. The dangling fronds hurled them into the trunk of the tree, like a zookeeper flicking morsels into the mouth of a waiting lion, and their dying pain exploded in the back of Alice’s skull.