While Demorra struggled to free her new comrade and tears began to roll down Capella's face, the weeds' decisive hold on their victim became all the more aggressive. Tendrils coiled tightly around Capella's limbs, lashed around her waist, pulled back with each yank of Demorra's will, as if they were actively fighting her for possession of Capella.

A low growl rumbled behind Demorra.

The small dog -- the very same that had been previously suspended spinning over the mote by the ocean -- darted out from behind the red-glowing mote in a flash of tawny fur. With bared teeth, the little dog caught a firm hold upon a bunch of weeds and whipped its head back and forth, snarling viciously, until the weeds were uprooted. Immediately the dog took another chomping mouthful and tugged and wrenched and growled until these, too, were yanked right out of the ground.

Bit by bit, Capella was freed enough for Demorra to successfully pull her out and away from the creeping plantlife. The dog took a protective stance between them and the weeds, hackles raised, and barked heartily at the last few snaking searching tendrils.

Deeper in the open forest, the noises of moving and humming had shifted closer. Something murmured, upset by the barking dog. Shadows drew closer.