It rolled on its side, a hand patting and dragging across the ground, curling into a fist and uncurling to lay flat, to start helping it push itself up, still groaning and gurgling and grunting with each move. The pain had been so very raw, but the impact was receding quickly. The Nightcap's shape began to quiver itself back down, hugging tightly to the scalp of the girl who suffered, less a hat and more a dye job gone horribly wrong. It sank down under her jaw, against her ears and eyes and the neck, house of that all-important brain stem. There was more pain there, but more control, and the girl had to move.

"Guouwh...gnahrh. Ha. Ah..."

Spit, it insisted.

She spat, leaving black and red behind.

As it slowly rose, staggering to stand, tendrils lifted and pulled eyelids open to peer, blearily, at the moving, speaking shapes before the Nightcap. Two.

"H-hoh..."

There was a squelching sound, quickly proceeded by the tinny whistle of tiny needles zipping through the air. Three, four, five, six–