Try to pull rank

Velvet Vixen flails in her silken bonds, trying to suck in a deep breath despite the blood rushing to her head.

“Okay, okay—enough!” she shouts. “I have full diplomatic immunity!”

The branches freeze mid-creep. Bark creaks. Moss rustles. A dozen glowing, bark-etched eyes narrow.

“Immunity?” grumbles the bearded sycamore.

“By whose authority?” snaps the monocled maple.

Velvet Vixen grits her teeth, fixes her mask, and throws her voice like she’s standing at the podium in front of City Hall.

“By decree of the Mayor of Westville herself. And I quote—‘If the Velvet Vixen is anywhere, assume she’s authorized.’”

The trees fall into murmuring silence.

“Velvet… Vixen?” one repeats, the name rumbling like wind through old branches.

“Wait… this is the Velvet Vixen?” another groans. “Nobody told me she was sparkly.”

“We’ve got a direct order from the Dryad Council to leave her alone if she ever comes through here,” the mossy one mutters.

“Oops,” someone else creaks.

“Yikes,” says another. “We may have... over-inspected.”

One by one, the glowing eyes blink out. Faces fade back into bark. The limbs creak and groan as they retreat into the night, shuffling off into the woods, grumbling apologies and bureaucratic mutterings about “processing delays” and “root-based miscommunication.”

Velvet Vixen dangles in stunned silence for a moment.

Then—

sigh “Thank God.”

She lets her head fall back, relief washing over her as the clearing returns to its quiet, eerie stillness.

But then she realizes.

She’s still hanging upside down.

“Wait.”

No movement.

“Wait.”

The forest is silent again.

“You left me tied up?!”

A branch somewhere chuckles.