Her first reaction was to raise her wand.
When a Smashing Charm struck the surface of the vines, the branches dented like elastic leather, then returned to their original shape. A second, a third, a Cutting Charm, an Exploding Charm, a Fire-Making Charm—she tried every spell she had learned and every spell she could think of, but the vines' toughness far exceeded the power of her magic. Each strike only left a brief dent or discoloration before they restored themselves.
Meanwhile, sounds from the world outside continued to reach her ears. The dragon's roars and cries ricocheted among the trees, rougher than any she had ever heard, as though an enormous stone were being ground repeatedly against an even larger one.
There were also impacts, heavy as the muffled crash of a century-old tree striking the ground after being uprooted. And there was a hissing sound she could not quite name, like vast quantities of liquid being splashed onto a heated surface. Filtered through the vine barrier, those sounds became dull and distant, like noises from above the water heard by someone at the bottom of the deep.
Then, after about the time it took to drink a cup of tea—perhaps two, she could not be sure—a wave of heat surged in through the gaps between the vines. It carried a familiar smell, a mixture of sulfur and scorched organic matter. After it passed, her skin became dry and taut, and a thin layer of moisture vanished from her lips.
Then the tremors stopped. The dragon's roars stopped. The impacts stopped as well. Outside, everything was quiet.
At that same instant, the vines ceased all signs of life.
She reached out and touched the surface before her. The branches that had been as tough as leather crumbled into powdery fragments