“Yeah, well,” I murmur, slowly sending one of my vines to creep up behind her, “I don’t really want to be besties with you either.” My briars snag her around the waist and whip her hard against a tree. Despite that, she’s standing within seconds. That playfulness gone. “I will fucking kill you!” she screams. Every maneuver Dayton taught me during our training flies from my brain. I turn and sprint, but she’s so much faster, bowling me over despite her smaller frame.
