Through the entirety of the Wampus’ potioneering, the Willow shook in that quiet, calm way, but the metaphorical clock was ticking. The shaking became more violent, more agitated, and it seemed the white-haired child was in for a rough time soon. A floating watering can probably wouldn’t have irritated the Willow, but what did was how long it was being kept in this frozen state.

Violent tremors had begun to affect the ground. Surely the young woman could feel it by now.

Suddenly, all was at ease. The potion seeped into the dirt, and the roots did “drink” it up. Its branches hung in a lazy fashion. It had no desire to swing at her or to hide the human-sized hole dipped under its roots. It looked as if it were just the right size for a person…

How curious.