The flying pig was blissfully oblivious to the danger until it was almost too late. Its pink feather wings beating happily, a soft, steady rhythm, it flew through the air, enjoying the sight of the misty sprays of the waterfall.
Then, suddenly, a sound caught its attention.
It looked up, its tiny head swiveled around, its beady red eyes widening in alarm as it realized the threat in front of it, not expecting to see the source of the commotion to be its impending doom approaching.
Unfortunately for the poor flying pig, its gaze landed on the woman's towering form, her body suspended in the air, the tree clutched in her grasping hands.
The flying pig's heart skipped a beat as it realized the dangerous situation it was in, its tiny legs dangling limply in the air.