The vines curl around Punk’s golden hooves, begging her to come with them. The courser shakes them off, continuing through the narrow tunnel, drawn forward by an alluring scent coming from the end of the tunnel. The vines grow thicker as she proceeds, and they begin to get more handsy; winding up her legs, entangling themselves in her mane, gripping handfuls -- or vinefuls -- her tail. Punk snaps her teeth at them, but continues forward, pulled by the scent wafting down the tunnel. She turns a corner, and the scent gets stronger, when suddenly she feels one vine wrap around her barrel, as she is forcefully pulled forward, and deposited in a small clearing, surrounded by the writhing vines. Shaking herself off, she stands, and faces the center of the clearing, where she comes face to face with a giant pitcher plant, mouth agape and waiting. Suddenly, vines come from every direction, wrapping themselves around her so quickly that she doesn’t have time to struggle. Biting and kicking, she tries to resist their grasp, but they pick her up anyway, slowly dragging her towards the giant plant’s open mouth. As she is dangled over the open mouth, she looks down, and sees the bones of other coursers, slowly being dissolved in the plant’s stomach acid. She frantically tries to think up a plan to escape the fate of those who came before her, but before she can do so, the pitcher’s mouth lets out a shriek, and she is dropped, narrowly missing the green mouth. She blacks out as her head hits the ground, and the last thing she remembers is vines thrashing around her. 

As Punk comes to, she senses death around her. Quickly rising to her feet, she looks around. Nothing but withered, blackened vines, laying dead and brittle on the ground. Turning to the center of the clearing, she sees the pitcher plant, also clearly dead. Bewildered, the courser looks around again, and catches a tail, whisking down the tunnel from which Punk had come.