"You know I work all day, to get you money, to buy you things . . ."

Meg opens her eyes, because, yeah, all right, she can't see the tree with them closed, but she also can't see anything else, and she kind of thinks she might need to at this point.

That is a very worrisome cloud of leaves.

And she doubts the Lennon/McCartney songbook is going to be much help with them.

Meg's not sure what kind of a weapon you use on a cloud of glittering leaves (some kind of enchanted rake, maybe), and she knows she doesn't have anything with her, but she checks her pockets nevertheless and comes up with a small first aid kit and the twig she broke off one of the golden trees earlier.

She pulls the latter from her pocket, because she's not sure about the wisdom of keeping it at this point.

"And it's worth it just to hear you . . . huh."

Meg stops singing, and stares at the twig in her hand. The moment it was out of her pocket, and in front of her, she stopped feeling anything at all from the tree at the center of the clearing.

"Huh."

Cautiously, Meg moves the twig to the side. The moment it's away from her body, she can feel the pull of the tree again. She hurriedly moves it back.

"Birnam Wood."

Well, if Orpheus's approach won't work, they might as well try MacDuff's.

"I think . . . I think maybe it thinks I'm a tree now," she says, trying not to be aware of the utter absurdity of that statement. "Like, maybe it 'sees' the leaves and stops looking.

"Try it," she says, to Bruce, who is currently closest, holding out the twig.

Maybe they can make like a tree and leaf?