The grass is difficult to get through. It's highlands grass, very tough and entangled all over. The hedges high above you are silent now as you creep onwards, but that's no great consolation. Sure, a Blast-Ended Skrewt might not be able to find you, but what if there's an ant colony somewhere behind the next patch of grass?

Somewhere off to your right side, something titters. Oh, that little chuckle is worse than clicking mandibles. It implies intelligence. You whirl around, wand out, just as you hear the unmistakable sound of little footsteps, but there are just more blades of grass in front of you. You begin struggling forward blindly, trying to get to the end of the clearing.