A tendril extended from its brain-part into her navel. Yenderil wailed. Snatched up the stink, rotting thing and pulled, yelping at the answering tug inside her belly. She forced herself to keep a firm, steady force when she rather rip the thing from her. She hissed with the pain, but kept at it until she pulled the whole length free, like pulling a carrot up out of the ground. She hoped it was the whole thing. There was something like a root at its end, stained with her blood. Sweating, she threw the face and its root from her and fell back, weeping with the soreness screaming from her belly.
