Hecate's logic had been questionable, at best. But, in her defense, there had been a sort of logic. It ran like this: there was a weird tendril of black rock coiling out, so nobody should touch that. But if she came up from the OTHER side, obviously, the rock (which did not have eyes) would not see her or would somehow otherwise disregard her.

She had reached for truth, and had been granted only tangled vision. Blind, rock shifting around her, claustrophobic; a horrible squealing--death--?; deafening roars and desperate begging, and-

-and when she snapped back to reality, reeling, she found herself held fast.

At first she simply stared at it, still overwhelmed by the confusing blur of visions. But then she tried to tug herself free.

And couldn't.

Another tug, another--harder--and panic quickly set in; the owl began a frantic flapping, scraping with her other powerful foot to try and break herself free, snapping down with hard raps of her clicking beak to dislodge the moving rock.

A shrill owl's screech escaped her, and her previous dignity was suddenly abandoned in favor of that panic: "HELP! Help, get me free--GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" Terror thrilled in her voice, rising higher.

So much for "don't touch the rock."

Hecate struggled and fought for but a moment, panic rising. None of these useless sods were helping her; pathetic--and she was mad about that, but she didn't have time to be all THAT angry. Reason being: this stone would kill her.

Talons raked fruitlessly across the rock, barely leaving a scratch. Beak pried at it. Wings battered. Stop, she told herself, in a commanding mental voice: think, you idiot.
Half-blind eyes shot over the rock that encased one foot, and she fought down her panic to focus for a beat.

The solution she quickly reached wasn't the most standard of procedures to enact when trapped by desperate, magic rock, but Hecate wasn't about to stand on decorum, here. A squint and a brief flurry of wingbeats and she'd summoned up one of those glittery bananas that she was capable of. She raked her free talons into it, her beak slicing desperately--and then used the slime on her trapped leg, packing it down as fast as she could, wriggling.

It helped; a moment later, she slid free.

She hopped a few yards to safety, tucked her wings, ruffled her feathers in, and glared (mostly) unseeing at the others present. "Useless, all of you," she spat, and then took flight, oblivious to her own safety as she departed.

The effect of her haughtiness was rather ruined by the banana smeared across her body.

permission received to godemote my way free-
exit Hecate