In a hail of song and chatter, her gnarled hands laced with purple glitter; The woman burst out of the bushes, while in some unknown language - somehow talking and singing (quite horribly) interchangeably, or perhaps even at the very same time.
An incredible, garish coat that could most accurately be described as what would appear to be the wings of countless moldy decaying moths and butterflies; flapped in the wind as though alive. Mmmm. A zombie butterfly cape.
'Well, at least this is an interesting way to die,' Turner thought, barely any strength remaining even to hold on to Jenn.
The aged woman, either through some bizarre magic or a plain enormous strength, somehow managed to drag the two of them into a cave which had what looked like macaroni murals and oddly adorable paintings on the walls.
A shockingly delicious collection of grubs and fried leaves was followed more song and dance, most of which would only be remembered in the morning by a rather strange taste in the mouth.
Never had they imagined they would be so thankful to meet one so adorably insane.