Kharon let out a deep sigh; it was relief washing over them when the last twig fell onto the second floor. This little creature had been his nemesis. For the most part, the twigs were not an average enemy despite their tiny size; clever, able to regrow the vines even when scorched, it became an annoying opponent. They had invested over an hour in cutting, slashing, and burning their way to the heart of the twig in trying to kill it.
Kharon was wiping the sweat from his brow, his chest rising and falling heavy as he was pulling gulps of air in. None of the others in his party were in any better shape. The once proud dragoness, Virela, sat scratched and burned on the ground, although every time, the little twig counterattacked with persistence, while her brother Neb was as exhausted as she was, his smugness now blunted from the long and hard fight.
