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The flower didn't immediately trap it's prey. It liked to scare what ever creature it was slowly,to let realisation of what was happening sink in deeper but words from someone else aggravate the flower and, if flowers could, it would be glaring at that foal, Mesec. His words were not what the flower wanted to hear. A black cat it what you speak of. Another thing you should know about the flower,is that it has feelings. It can feel happiness,it can feel sadness and it can feel anger,and at this moment, anger is what it was feeling. That colt had ruined it's fun,and he was going to pay,or more like,it's friends were going to pay. Hello, Mesec. What's going on here? The flowers mind is cunning. These two youngsters were friends.
Leaves above slowly start to turn into long,slithering snakes,all green with jet black eyes but these snakes were part of the tree. They were still attached to the branches but there body was being stretched to reach down to the filly. There was about six of the long slithering creatures,each hissing menacingly.There form surrounded the foal,each stretching down to about leg height before they start to try and wrap round her neck and body. Although there movements were slow and graceful there open jaws were ready to strike at any moment. The snakes were whispering though,but the whispers could only be heard by little frost. She hates you. They hate you. The flower read minds. It knew she had arrived thinking about her mother and so she had summoned the snakes to telepathically tell her,to upset her. The snakes were almost grinning with glee as the telepathically told her.
Whilst this was all happening the gate above the stallion had slammed down at the sides,forming a cage,riddled with spiders of all sizes,but these spiders were only visible to Apollo. Each bar was close to the next,making the gap to small to squeeze out of. There was no lock,except for the ceiling of the cage,the original gate. The flower it's self happened to be outside the cage for it did not wish to be trapped in there with (what the flower was guessing and hoping) would be a scared or angry stallion. The haunting laughter filled the air again. The blood that had rolled of the petals of the flower had now formed a small red puddle in front of the flower. A key had formed in the puddle. It was old and rusty,just like the cage around Apollo.
"Get the key. I dare you."
"blah blah blah."
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