Foxglove took a sip. Her mane came untied.

At this point, the first flowers started blooming. She kept drinking. More flowers. And there seemed to be the sounds of a few pets outside. And birds. And maybe an insect or two entering the bar, little butterflies dancing around the circle of violets and wildflowers.

And then she drank more, and it became clear that the woods and surrounding areas were starting to empty out and clamor around the bar, which was now a fragrant meadow of foxgloves. The mob scratched at the door.

"...Like infinity."

She muttered, tasting the words sparking on her tongue.