Pen and Ink
“Let go of me!” Thistle shouted. Elisenda looked up to see Thistle several feet in front of her ensnared by a tree. Why did Thistle make everything so difficult? “Get off!” she shouted again, yanking her skirt free with a loud ripping sound.
“Are you all right?” Elisenda asked warily.
“Yes, I’m fine I–” Thistle patted her pockets frantically and looked up at Elisenda with widening eyes. “I’ve been pickpocketed by a tree.”
Of course she had, Elisenda thought to herself.